


Adventures in Coat Check

by haikant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Loki: Agent of Asgard, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Baltimore, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Humor, Inner Dialogue, Invisibility, Light Angst, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki likes culture, Museum AU, Other, POV First Person, Psychic Bond, Road Trip, Sarcasm, Sass, Work In Progress, World Travel, art history references, coat check, it's my own brand of fluffy weirdness, some violence, strange relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-14 13:45:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 44,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1268602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haikant/pseuds/haikant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Loki has a spat with an article of clothing, and the girl at coat check gets caught in the crossfire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I've made a soundtrack to go along with this work: 
> 
> http://www.shareplaylists.com/playlist/adventures-in-coat-check.html
> 
> Woo. Enjoy.

I stifled a yawn as my glasses slid down my nose for at least the fifth time. The exhibition's opening reception was in full swing. Snatches of Bach drifted down the the hallway, along with the occasional sound of tinkling glassware.

_Only two hours left. Then sleep. Extra work means extra monies. Stick it out_ , I thought to myself. I had volunteered to work the coat check for this reception, but after an hour sitting alone, I was climbing the walls. The actual checking of coats had been a relatively quick process: about forty five minutes of rich museum donors relinquishing their furs and fancy trenches to my care in exchange for numbered plastic tags.

Now I was reduced to sneaking sips of my tea (a necessity in the arena of the late night coat check) and searching for any way to make the time pass faster. The opening reception was half finished, so I expected at least some people to start trickling out.

_I'm just going to rest my head down here for a minute_ , I thought, taking off my glasses and closing my eyes. _Just for a moment..._

My eyes snapped open when I heard the door unlatch and the hinges rattle. I heard a quick, purposeful tread make its way down the carpet towards the coat check area. Then, a sound not unlike the chuffing of a tiger.

“The party's started without you; I hope you're aware,” I stated bluntly, not looking up from the desk.

The purposeful gait stopped. I lifted my head from the desk, reset my glasses, and took in the late arrival. My gaze traveled up his tall form, and I stood to meet his eyes. That was a mistake. Looking into his eyes was like looking into a glacial crevasse: beautiful, seemingly infinite, and capable of making me disappear quickly.

He stared back at me coolly, returning my gaze with thinly veiled contempt.

“They can't have any fun without me; I'm the guest of honor,” he said with a smirk.

“Oh. Do you have pieces in the exhibition?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

“No,” he replied with a quirk of his eyebrow that didn't allow for explanations.

“Would you like to check your coat?” I asked, mustering all of my courtesy, along with a bit of my courage. Something about him frightened me, just enough to keep me from asking any more questions. I was in coat check mode now.

Annoyance chased the contempt from his expression. “I suppose I should adhere to some semblance of normalcy in this...” he trailed off, waving a hand to indicate a mysterious agenda. He shrugged out of his coat and passed it to me.

I grabbed the collar and was immediately struck by its weight. I almost lost my grip. Mr. Purposeful Gait smirked again, amused by my obvious surprise. I turned away, lugging the enormous black coat towards the rear of the coat check alcove. I lifted my arms above my head in order to prevent dragging the hem on the floor. I found an unoccupied hanger on the furthest coat rack and gave up my heavy burden to its sturdier care. Grabbing the plastic tag, I made my way back to the desk. Mr. Purposeful Gait was nowhere to be found.

“Sir?” I called out, “You forgot your number...” I held it out to the empty air like a communion wafer. He didn't reappear.

“I am not going to be responsible if someone else takes your coat,” I muttered. _That strange diversion didn't last very long. What else to do?_ I sipped my tea, which had grown much colder in the past five minutes. _Weird._

I let my thoughts drift to the mysterious Mr. Purposeful Gait. _Why was his coat so heavy? Was it made of lead? Was the hem weighted? How could he wear it without developing serious back problems? Maybe he was freakishly strong. He hadn't looked like all that beefy. Maybe he swam. Or ran. Or was crazy good at yoga._ I'd barely glanced at him once he'd removed the coat; its soft form had obscured the finer lines of his body. _Didn't cover up his face, though. Or his eyes._ I shivered, remembering their glacial intensity. _I bet he wins a lot of staring contests._ The force of his gaze had fit perfectly in his features, which seemed prideful. _Or royal._ _What? Where did that come from? He couldn't be royalty. There weren't enough guards or paparazzi. Also, royals, as of late, seem to more closely resemble members of the Hapsburg Dynasty, which was rather unfortunate._ Mr. Purposeful Gait's skin was a pale ivory that reminded me of my own sun-fearing complexion. His mouth was a sharp dash, set at a jaunty angle when he smirked. The rest of his face had been all planes and angles, with a sharp nose and even sharper cheekbones. His complexion seemed more extreme when paired with his hair and brows, which were an inky shade. _The coat matches his hair_ , I thought with a giggle, _And now you've just spent the past ten minutes waxing poetic about an arrogant visitor with a creepy stare. Granted, he's quite attractive. But come on, Nell, he seemed a bit scary._

I still held his coat check tag in my hand. I opened the desk drawer and put it inside, where it clicked against spare pens and a date stamp. Sitting back in the chair, I grabbed my cup of tea, which was now almost icy. _Oh well. At least it has caffeine. Don't think about oddly attractive men. Don't think about how it's been too long since someone has stared at you with that level of intensity. Don't think about it. Don't-_

 

“Ahem.”

I looked up hopefully. The voice did not belong to Mr. Purposeful Gait.

“I seem to have misplaced my check number,” said an older woman with the voice of a Kennedy. “My coat is that black one. There.” She pointed vaguely at the middle of the closest coat rack.

“Are you sure you've lost it? Perhaps it's in your bag,” I suggested, gesturing to her small clutch.

“I am sure that I did not put it there,” she replied, nonplussed.

“Humor me?” I asked with a quiet raise of an eyebrow and a sheepish grin. Huffing, she opened her bag. Her eyes widened.

“Oh, here it is! Who would have thought that you would be so smart?” she said, handing me the tag. I checked the number and found her coat, which was on the second rack, near the end, and not anywhere close to where she had pointed earlier. That was to be expected. Her coat was of a particularly common design: black, knee length, fiber-fill, with a hood trimmed in real fur.

“Here you are, ma'am. Have a good night,” I said as I handed her the puffy coat.

 

I looked at my phone; it was just past nine. People started trickling out of the reception, exchanging numbered tokens for the corresponding outerwear. By 9:45, I was down to half a dozen coats. At five of ten, I had three left: a long, red, leather behemoth, lined and trimmed with sable fur; a Burberry trench coat in khaki; and, of course, Mr. Purposeful Gait's, lurking in the back like a scolded child.

Red Leather came by a minute later to pick up her coat, and Burberry Trench left at one minute before ten. Then there was no one. I poked my head past the alcove entrance. I heard no footsteps. The lights started clicking off. A security officer walked past the desk to secure the front doors. I was very confused.

“Is there anyone left in the galleries?” I asked, hoping that the mysterious Mr. Purposeful Gait hadn't slipped by and forgotten his distinctively heavy coat.

“Nope. We're clear,” replied the guard.

_Well, this is quite the quandary..._ It was getting on past ten. I was supposed to be off right at ten. I wanted to go home. And have a glass of wine. Then get some sleep. But before I could engage in those happy activities, Mr. Purposeful Gait needed to reclaim his freakishly heavy outerwear. _Ugh. Just show up so I can leave..._ I heard no sounds, not even cricket chirps. _Okay, I give up. I'm leaving._

I looked back at his coat. It looked so lonesome. The sleeves hung down so sadly, empty of their arms' embraces.

“Don't look at me like that,” I said, half hoping it wasn't aloud. _Too much time in coat check, and now you're talking to yourself. Back away from the cliff, Nell._ “Maybe I can send you back to your owner. Sometimes folks put their addresses in the breast pocket.”

I walked over to the coat and pulled the lapel open. I reached inside the inner breast pocket and came up empty. _Maybe he's labeled his clothes. Like a ten year old._ But there was no tag anywhere on the coat. _So here's this nice coat, with no label, no name, and apparently, no owner._ _Great_.

“Hey, Glen?” I called. He had just locked the doors, and there was a slim chance that he was still in the immediate vicinity. I heard no reply.

“Fine,” I growled at the coat, “you can come home with me. But you can't fit in my bag...so I guess I'll have to wear you, blasted thing. This is not permanent. I am not a thief. I fully intend to return you to your owner, once I can find him.”

I gathered my things and drained the last of my ice cold tea, all the while casting sidelong glances at the coat. I managed to stuff my own smaller (inferior) coat into the bottomless pit of my bag. Squaring my shoulders, I said, “Okay, coat. Time to go.”

As I grabbed its shoulder to pull it from the hanger, I couldn't help but notice that the fabric was curiously warm. _I love it when the coats are next to the heating vent. So toasty._ I slipped my arms into the sleeves, expecting to swim in its yards of black wool, but to my surprise, it fit perfectly. The hem just brushed the tops of my ankles; it was nowhere near as long as the floor dragging monster I remembered from an hour and a half ago. I knitted my brow, “Well, this is unexpected. And weird.”

I looked down at myself. _Rather dashing. Mysterious. Definitely not from The Matrix. Stylish? Seek a second opinion before making the final call on that one._ I swished out of coat check. _If I wore this all the time, I'd have a proud look on my face, too. There's something to be said for statement pieces of clothing._

I flashed my employee badge at the security desk, “Goodnight, guys. Have a good weekend.”

“Night. Nice coat,” replied the security officer.

As I walked away from the building, I swore I felt a gentle squeeze of my right shoulder. I turned my head to see if someone had sneaked up on me, but there was no one. _Get to the car. Go home. It's been a very strange night_. On the path to the parking lot, I felt the breeze stiffen. Low pitched voices reached my ears:

 

“Where is it?”

 

“I'm not sure. It was there when I locked the doors. So was the coat check attendant. By the time I got back from my last circuit, they were both gone.”

 

“It has to be found! Find the attendant! I'm certain she has it! Do you know her habits? I need that coat! It's infused with my magic!”

 

“Can't you just locate it that way?”

 

“Unfortunately, no. It's imbued with cloaking magic. Invisibility. She shouldn't have been able to see me in the first place.”

 

I picked up my pace. They were talking about me! _Take off the coat. Drop it on the path. They'll find it._ My arms struggled to obey my mind, but to no avail. _Time to run away._ I felt pressure on my lower back, urging me forward towards my car.

 

“What's the attendant's name? The woman with the forest green eyes?”

 

“I don't know, sir. She's new.”

 

_False._ I'd been working at the museum for a few months. I knew all the guards by sight, if not by name. This one was protecting me. I strained to hear more:

 

“You're lying.”

 

“I'm not. I don't know her name!”

 

I gasped. It was Glen! We were in a book club together. He definitely knew me. He was definitely lying. This whole thing was becoming decidedly unsavory. _Why are you protecting me, Glen? Why does this guy need to be all angry? Is this Mr. Purposeful Gait? It has to be him._

 

“There can not be that many redheads that work at this museum! Now. Tell me what you know!”

 

_Shit. Getoutgetoutgetout._

 

I heard a thunk.

 

“That wasn't so hard, now was it?”

 

A tiger's chuffing reached my ears.

 

“I will find you, Miss Eleanor Keavey. And I will reclaim my cloak.”

 

I shivered, more from fear than cold. The coat was still unnaturally warm. It pulled itself tighter around my shoulders. With shaking hands, I grabbed my car keys. I had just opened my car door when I heard footsteps approaching fast. Purposeful footsteps.

I got in the car and turned the key in the ignition, fastened my seat belt, and began my drive home with more haste than I usually utilized.

 

“Good Christ, Nell. Just whose coat did you take?”

As the words spilled from my mouth, some dark green embroidery caught my eye. Lit by passing headlights, I could make out some words around the cuffs of each sleeve.

 

**I belong to Loki**

 

read the left one, and the right said,

 

**Consequences will befall all thieves**

 

…

“Well, I'm totally boned.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roommates are fun.

 

The rest of my drive home was a blur. Somehow I managed to obey most traffic laws.

 

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT._

_Think. Think. Think._

_Why didn't you leave it at lost-and-found? What possessed you? You're a goody two shoes. You don't take things. You're honest to a fault. So why did you take this coat?_

 

It had looked so lonely, all by itself in the back of coat check. Like a faithful dog abandoned by its master.

 

_Did you want to be taken?_

I felt a light squeeze around the tops of my arms.

_Did you want to punish your master by leaving him?_

The light pressure repeated itself.

_Okay. What the hell is going on?_

 

_One: an oddly attractive visitor checked a curiously heavy coat and never reclaimed it._

_Two: I decided to take the coat (in order to properly return it) home with me for the night and the coat mysteriously fit me when worn._

_Three: Mr. Purposeful Gait, aka Loki, wanted the coat back, and had knocked out a guard to gain my personal information._

_Four: After asking a question aloud, the answer had appeared on the coat sleeves' embroidery._

 

_Was I wearing a magic, psychic, invisibility coat?_

The coat's waist belt cinched itself tight.

So, Loki, the god of mischief, had a psychic invisibility coat.

_That you, inadvertently, stole. Holy fuck._

 

I'd arrived at my house a few minutes prior to drawing these conclusions, and was sitting in my car, trying not to hyperventilate. I took a deep breath, got out, and walked to my front door.  _You definitely need to talk to someone. Thinly veiled death threats are kind of a big deal..._

I unlocked the door, and heard strains of Kenny G wafting down the stairs.

_Dammit._

My roommate and her current paramour were most likely mid-coitus. Possibly pre-coitus. _Come on, Nell, grow a pair and talk to her. This is important. She'll agree once she hears your story. Hopefully._

 

Slamming the door behind me, I called out, “Hey, Marie. I'm home. I need to talk to you.”

Kenny G's warbling got slightly louder.

“Hey, I'm serious. This is kind of an emergency!”

The decibels increased.

 

“Dorcas! Marie! Fletcher! THIS IS AN ACTUAL EMERGENCY! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE! NOW!”

 

I heard a thud, and the creaking of feet on floorboards. Kenny G got quieter. The door was thrown open with a forceful click, and then slammed shut.

 

“What the flying fuck, Nell? Did you really need to use my whole name? I thought we were adults, not twelve year olds,” she spat from the top of the stairs.

“If you'd acknowledged my arrival, and subsequent supplications for your immediate assistance, the I wouldn't've had to use it,” I hurled back, with more force than necessary.

“What's gotten into you? You know that Kenny G is code for 'Marie is having business time, so kindly fuck off.' Or do I need to add a clause to our lease?”

“I need you to be a completely objective third party right now, and help me out with this situation! Stop worrying about what's going on between your lady bits! For once, I need your help more than you need to get laid!” My voice broke.

Marie's face went from combative to worried in that instant. “Nell, I'm-” she started to say. Her bedroom door opened, and not one, but two pairs of masculine feet made their way down the stairs.

 

The taller one spoke first, “Look, Marie, we can do this another time. We don't want to come between you and your roommate.”

The shorter one continued, “We'll be here whenever you're ready. Don't hesitate to call.” As they passed me on their way out the door, the taller one met my eyes and winked, saying, “And, Nell, was it? You should consider joining us next time. Do let us know when this whole spat works out.”

 

And they were out the door. I shut it behind them, and turned both deadbolts before turning back to Marie.

“The tricycle? The ultimate, lady tricycle?” I asked her with incredulity.

She shrugged and smiled at me, “Trying everything once, right?”

“Sounds like they wanted to try it much more than once,” I said with a giggle. I kept laughing, uncontrolled, my breath coming in gasps as I started to hyperventilate.

“This really is an emergency, isn't it?” Marie whispered, coming down the stairs to embrace me. “Coat check couldn't've been that bad. I know it was a long night, but at least you got to see people wearing ridiculous things. That was entertaining, right?”

I sniffed, “Yeah, it was fine for the most part. Until the end of the night. Someone forgot their coat, and, well...” I held up my arms and trailed off.

“Wait. You stole a coat?”

“What? No. Yes. I fully intend to return it. You know what our lost-and-found system is like. This thing never would've seen the light of day. Besides, its owner never came to pick it up. I waited almost twenty minutes past close.”

 

And then it all came tumbling out. The mysterious Mr. Purposeful Gait. The coat going from tall-man-sized to average-woman-sized. The heated exchange between Glen and Mr. Purposeful Gait. My epiphany in the car.

Marie didn't stop me once during my frantic retelling. She just looked at me, a little slack-jawed. When I reached the end, Marie finally spoke, “That totally justifies using my entire name to get my attention.”

“Right?”

“You obviously need to contact this Loki, and explain that it's all just a misunderstanding.”

“But he'll kill me. Or, at least seriously maim me.”

“You don't know that. The sleeve just said, 'consequences will befall thieves.' Doesn't necessarily mean something bad. Who knows? It could be a free beer, and the secret to inter-dimensional travel.”

“Or, I could spend the rest of my life as an ant. Or stuck in a time loop of last Tuesday.”

“You'll never know if you don't get in contact with the guy. Sooner, rather than later, would probably be better.”

“How am I supposed to contact him? It's not like I have his phone number. Also, fairly sure that he doesn't have a Facebook.”

 

At this last, something made a crinkling sound in the left pocket of the coat. Marie and I exchanged startled looks. I reached into the pocket and pulled out a scrap of thick, greenish paper. I read aloud:

“If found, please return to Loki. Otherwise, he'll find you. To plead your case, call (212) 555-7303. Should I call now? Where is this area code from, anyways?”

“It's New York. Manhattan, specifically.”

“How do you know that?”

“The twins.”

“Ah. They were cute. And they knew it, the bastards.”

 

I got my phone out of my bag, and punched in the numbers with twitching fingers.

The line rang half a dozen times before a recording kicked in, “We're sorry, the number you have dialed is unavailable...”

“It's not available. Disconnected, I think,” I said.

“Why would you give me a bad number?” I asked, directing the question at the coat. I felt the shoulder seams move up, and then back down. “You can't just shrug this off. This whole situation is, at least partly, your fault.”

Marie looked at me, a quizzical expression furrowing her usually unmarred brow.

“Okay. That's all the crazy I can take for the evening. You, mad woman: go to bed. Take the psychic coat. Don't know so much about the invisibility part. Go. Sleep. We'll figure this out in the morning.”

“Yes, ma'am, Miss Dorcas,” I yawned.

“Don't push it, Nell. You box-blocked me earlier to drop this in our lives. You owe me. Big.”

“Times two?”

“Times two.”

“G'night, then,” I said, stumbling up the stairs. I walked in my room with a stretch and another yawn. I glanced at my bedside clock: after midnight. This definitely would throw off my sleep schedule. I pulled off the coat and hung it on the back of my bedroom door. I gave it what I'd hoped was a withering stare.

Peeling off my work clothes, I groped around for a pair of yoga pants and a comfy tee shirt.

“Oh, yoga pants, you never let me down,” I muttered sleepily, pulling them on and throwing the tee over my head.

I was just getting into bed when I noticed that the coat was gone.

“Huh. I guess you are invisible.”

The coat winked back into existence. I let my head fall back on to my pillow and stared at the ceiling.

“Loki, you psycho, please don't kill me for taking your coat. S'all a misunderstanding,” I prayed quietly as I began to drift to sleep.

Before succumbing to wonderful unconsciousness, I could've sworn I heard a low voice say, “Oh, Nell, killing you wouldn't be fun at all. Let's just play.”

I chalked it up to an overabundance of time in coat check and frayed nerves. I fell into a slumber full of handsome strangers, swirling around me in long, black coats.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Near panic attacks, strategizing with psychic articles of clothing, and questionable sanity

I woke up with a stretch and a yawn. _Sleeping in, yes please. Days off are magic._ Then my eyes snapped open.

 _OHSHITOHSHITOHSHIT_.

I looked at my closed bedroom door. On top of my robe and collection of belts was the black coat. _It wasn't a dream. It wasn't the existential nature of coat check. I DO have an article of clothing supposedly belonging to a Norse god. Which means that everything else that happened last night was real. Including me box-blocking Marie for the ultimate tricycle. Oh balls, she is going to kill me._

I rubbed my eyes and turned to look at the clock: 8:53 AM. _I can't even manage to sleep in properly on my day off. Figures._

I sat up and pushed off my copious layers of covers, swinging my feet over the side of my bed to find my favorite pair of fuzzy slippers. I stood, stretching again. I looked at the coat. It gave off an air of indifference, but when my eyes fell to the embroidery around the cuffs, the design seemed to reach for me. _Oh Jesus-sweet-bleeding-Christ-on-a-crutch. Everything is real. Including the funky, mood-ring-esque embroidery._ Despite my sleepy brain, my breath began to come in gasps. I could feel a panic attack brewing. _In. Out. Calm down, Nell. You've gone six months without an incident. Now is not the time._ I began to cast around for my purse: it held my anti-anxiety pills. _It's downstairs on the coat tree, where you always leave it. Stop freaking out. Stop._

_IT'SOKAYIT'SOKAYIT'SOKAY. YOU'REFINEYOU'REFINEYOU'REFINE._

My brain refused to shut down.   _Come on, brain_ , I pleaded, _It's too early to be dodging a panic attack.  Just talk to Marie.  She'll be logical.  Maybe._

_YOU ARE OKAY._

I grabbed my glasses, threw open the bedroom door, and ran down the stairs, the heels of my slippers catching on the last steps.

“Marie! Please tell me that you're here!” I said breathlessly.

Silence greeted me. I looked around the kitchen, hoping for a note, and next to her half-empty French press, I found one:

 

_**Nell,** _

_**I don't know what the hell you were on last night, but you were scaring the shit out of me. And what was up with that weird coat? It was late, we were both tired...I was sexually frustrated, but seriously. You have been spending entirely too many shifts just staying in coat check. I'm leaving you the number for my therapist. And the contact info for sensory deprivation tank operators on W. Pratt. Try everything once, right? I'd stay home today and help you work through this, but I can't miss work again. So, I'll see you tonight? Don't go chasing after this guy without me, okay? I promise I don't have any Kenny G on the schedule.** _

_**Love,** _

_**D. Marie** _

_**PS-I will buy something for dinner tonight, my treat. Just let me know what you want.** _

 

 _Good. Excellent. No allies in my hunt today._ I checked my train of thought. _Well, you do, technically, have at least one that hasn't left you yet._ I sighed, grabbing a mug out of the cabinet and pouring myself a cup of coffee. _Definitely will need coffee for that encounter._ I dug around the fridge for the half-and-half, adding enough to turn the coffee a dark shade of khaki. I got out bread too, and started making toast.

_Make a plan, Nell. You can't go into this thing blind. Make a list, check it twice, all the usual bullshit. Also, make sure all allies are present at strategy meetings. So go get the damn coat._

I crept up the stairs to my bedroom to grab the coat, where it still hung on the back of my door. “Come on, coat. We have plans to make and people to appease.” I tugged it on over my pajamas, feeling just a little ridiculous. _Real fashionable, Nell. It's black, so it obviously goes with everything. Even your faded, old, yoga pants._

I made my way back down to the kitchen just in time to rescue my toast from the point of no return. I spread a little peanut butter on it, and sat to think.

I needed to ensure that Loki knew that I was actively aware of my intentions. That he knew I wasn't trying to run away from him.

_What do you think, coat? Where would Loki go?_

The sleeve embroidery wobbled a bit before forming narrowly spaced, parallel, vertical lines, broken by a pair of horizontal ones every couple of inches.

_You might be psychic, but I'm not. Spit it out._

The lines stopped forming.

_Oh, come on. Please._

The embroidery regrouped itself to form more rows and lines.

_Great, so now I have to guess._

The embroidery was slowly coiling its way up my arms.

_Let's see. Ladders? Records? An Excel document? Shelves? Books?_

The embroidery stopped moving, and the shoulder seams gave a small squeeze.

 _Okay, there's a local branch of the library right down the road from here. It's fairly plain, and doesn't have the best selection._ _I don't think it would appeal to Loki's sense of elegance. The main branch, on the other hand, is epic. It's everything a library should be; it even has a giant chess board._

At this last thought from me, the coat gave my shoulders another squeeze. I felt a tightening around my waist, only to find that the coat had belted itself.

_Don't get antsy. I've got to get myself together before any type of confrontation can be made. Let me at least grab a shower._

The coat reluctantly loosened the waist sash.  I pulled it open, the hem billowing slightly.

_You are one cup of coffee away from being shut in the loony bin. You are talking to a coat. With your thoughts. And you think it answers you with cryptic embroidery. You had best hope that Marie isn't committing you today, because she has every right._

I left the kitchen, and headed upstairs in the hope that a blazing hot shower would clear my head. I stripped, dropping the coat haphazardly on my bed, and grabbed a fresh towel from the closet.  Making my way down the hall, I opened the door to the bathroom and turned on the water.  Quickly, I shut the door, allowing the small room get steamy. As the mirror fogged up, I could just make out some faint words written on the glass:

 

_**Hello Eleanor** _

_**You have something of mine** _

_**I want it back** _

 

“Haha, Marie. Very funny. Play creepy tricks on the crazy person,” I said to no one, as I wiped the words off the mirror. I pulled back the shower curtain and stepped into the spray. The water was hot enough to scald, but I welcomed the slight pain with a pleased hiss. _If the water isn't hot enough to hurt, then it's cold_. I ducked my head under the flow, and my scalp tingled pleasantly. I let the extreme heat of the water and the steam envelope my body, allowing my mind to quiet. My thoughts began to shift from strategy to somewhere decidedly less logical.

_He may be a creep, but he's a hot creep. Those eyes. That mouth. His hands._

I fantasized about his elegant hands tracing paths down my body, following the streams of scalding water with a cooler touch. His mouth would inevitably follow, with delicate kisses interrupting the rivulets running down my torso. He would look up at me with glacial eyes as he worshiped my very essence. He would press my back against the cold tile of the wall as he lifted my hips to –

 _Okay, Nell. Time to stop. This is your life, not a romance novel. Get it together. Logic. Brain. Not ladybits. Brain._ I turned off the shower with a forceful push of my wrist.

“When this is over, I am definitely investing in a decent vibrator.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear there will be Nell/Loki interaction in the next chapter *pinky promises and runs away*


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontation...finally.

After the sudden end to my shower, I dried off and got dressed. I needed to be utilitarian in my wardrobe choices: no heels or clothing chosen just for looks. I donned my favorite pair of skinny jeans; a soft, green, v-neck tee; and my tall, brown boots. _Appropriately business-like, but not restrictive. Gotta go into battle well dressed. Not that this is a battle. Or anything violent. But, the confidence these wardrobe choices lend is definitely needed for all encounters today. Do I need a scarf?_

I ambled down the stairs to find my phone. It sat unassumingly on the coffee table. I checked the weather: cool and breezy, mostly cloudy. High of 50. _Take the scarf_.

I found my small purse on the coat tree, and went upstairs to locate the coat. Opening my bedroom door, I took in the space. It was cluttered with too many books and not enough bookshelves; my clothes hamper was overflowing. _You should be doing laundry today. And organizing your books. You always say that you'll alphabetize by genre, but at this point, the books are lucky if they make it on to the shelf._

I spotted the coat on the corner of my bed, half falling off the side of the mattress.

“Come on, coat. We're going on an adventure,” I said as I grabbed its collar. Holding it at arms length, I studied it carefully, looking for any sign that would betray its extraordinary nature. The sleeve embroidery was dormant; just a faint, linear pattern of forest green thread around the cuffs. The hem hovered above the floor, swaying gently as my arms began to shake from the exertion. _You may have shrunk down to my size, but you still weigh a ton. How does Loki wear you all the time?_ I inhaled sharply between my teeth, making a disapproving sound. “No time like the present. Let's go.”

I swirled the coat around my shoulders, smoothly fitting my arms through the sleeves in a motion more well-practiced than it had any right to be, and made my way downstairs. I grabbed a loudly patterned scarf from the coat tree and quickly knotted it around my neck.

_Purse? Check. Keys? Check. Phone? Check. Sanity? Jury's still out._

I left the house and made sure to lock the front door. My car was parked a couple houses down, and the windshield was (thankfully) free of parking tickets. _You are never going to get used to this street parking situation, Nell. Stop being paranoid. There are other things to be paranoid about today. Parking tickets are not one of them._

The coat squeezed my shoulders. _Okay, okay, I get the message_ . _I'll calm down, but no promises for an uneventful drive to the library._

I fumbled in the coat's left pocket for my key fob to unlock the car. I got inside, turned the ignition, and pulled into the street. I was three blocks away before I realized that I hadn't left a note for Marie. _It's unlikely that she'll get back home before me. I won't be gone all day. Not like I have another late night coat check shift. Perish the thought. Besides, this should just be a quick exchange, done with a handshake and a smile. I'll give him back the coat and we'll each go our merry way._

The embroidery began to swirl, unfurling curlicues around my wrists.

_Shut up, coat. I know what I doing. I am approaching this with logic. And what are men, but logical creatures?_

The embroidery continued creating ever-tightening whorls.

 

I drove on, ignoring the coat's attempts to distract me.

 

In what seemed like seconds, I was in front of the library. The Enoch-Pratt Free Library, in the heart of Baltimore, was a very grand building. Large and square and solid, with enormous windows framed by Roman Doric-style pilasters, the Enoch-Pratt would look at home in Washington, D.C. It was a temple of stories, and from what little I had gathered about Loki, it was an ideal place to find him.

The street wasn't crowded; I parallel parked with ease. I got out and fed the meter for the maximum amount of time. _After I hand over the coat, maybe I can browse through the art history section. There's a Caravaggio biography that I've been meaning to read...wonder if it's any good._

Slinging my purse across my body, I walked through the front door. The coat belted itself tightly around my waist. I looked up at the ceiling, where deep and ornately decorated coffers added to the grandeur of the space.

_Breathe, Nell._

I pushed through the security bar, and looked around the room. Save for a handful of librarians and security officers, the place was empty. There were no one in sight. _Odd. There's usually at least twenty people here. I've never been the only patron here._ I stole a glance at the cuffs: the swirls and whorls continued to tightly coil in around themselves.

_Where would Loki go, if he wanted to find me?_

I felt a gentle pressure on my lower back, pushing me towards the stairs. _Up it is, then._ I climbed steadily, with my hand firmly on the bannister to keep it from shaking. At the second floor landing, I felt the left sleeve pull me towards the Fine Arts section. _Do you think Loki wants to have a deep discussion regarding Michelangelo's, allegedly latent, homosexuality and daddy issues?_ I let out a nervous chuckle, and looked around for a reprimand. The second floor was entirely deserted. _The weirdness of today just keeps on going_ . I ducked down an aisle, and began to browse. _May as well kill two birds._

The right shoulder seam gave a squeeze. Then the left. I ignored it. _Coat, stop being so spastic. What's with the role reversal? I thought that I was the nervous one._ I looked over my right shoulder, away from a (very interesting) book of drawings by Annibale Carracci. I saw nothing. I turned back to my chosen volume.

 

“Hello, Eleanor. You have something of mine. I want it back.”

 

The book fell from my hands with a muffled thunk. I felt a tightness across my shoulders, though if it was from the coat or the voice's owner, I couldn't tell.

“Loki,” I whispered, fear making my voice a hoarse parody of its normal alto.

“So, you've been made aware of me. I'm flattered. You know, I was taking bets with myself as to whether you would show. It appears that I have lost.”

I froze in place.

I felt a body brush against my back. _Too close, there, pal. Back it up._

“If you were taking bets, then just whose side were you on?” I asked, my voice gathering strength with each word.

“Both. And neither. The point is, Miss Keavy, that you stole something from me. I do not like thieves.”

I still couldn't see Loki, but I could feel his breath on my right ear. Each exhale was cooler than the last.

“Your coat seems to like me well enough.”

“I do mean to find out why,” he intonated as he finally came into view. “What exact quality do you possess that would make my cloak prefer your company to mine?”

He was much taller than I remembered. _He wasn't standing this close to you the last time you saw him._ _He's practically on top of you right now._ I did an about face, and tried to back away from him, but my retreat was stopped by a bookshelf. His mouth was at my eye level, and I watched it twist itself into an impish grin. Tilting my head, I looked into his glacial eyes, “It looks more like a coat, to me. Cloaks tend to not have sleeves. Trust me, I work at a coat check.”

He chuckled, “Semantics. It is MINE.” He grabbed at the tie around my waist, which then fastened itself against the assault. My hands scrabbled at the coat's belt, to try to help Loki take it from me. It didn't budge.

“Hey. HEY,” I exclaimed quietly, mindful of my reserved surroundings, “Get off, and let me explain!”

It was then that a coat sleeve moved. My left elbow came up, and smacked Loki across the chin. His eyes narrowed, looking from my elbow to my face. He clawed frantically at my waist.

“Stop!” I half yelled, ever wary of curious librarians. My hands came up, somehow evenly level with his chest. My arms shoved him, hard, seemingly of their own accord. He fell backwards, landing squarely on his ass. He exhaled hard and looked up at me, with a look of surprise on his face and a grunt of pain on his lips.

_Coat, is this your doing?_

A slight press of my left shoulder blade.

_STOP. I do not want to be in the middle of this shit. Don't you want to go back to Loki?_

The shoulder seams lifted and fell.

_Please don't put me in the middle of this._

“By all means, keep talking to my cloak,” Loki said, still sitting on the floor.

I met his gaze. His cold, glacial eyes were full of doubt and incredulity. He looked unsure. Frightened.

“I just wanted to give it back to you, you know,” I said as I folded my arms across my chest. “I have no faith in the museum's lost-and-found system. Not my fault that you left without it.”

“My agent on the inside was to get it for me. I believe his name is Glen,” Loki told me as he pushed himself off the floor. “This, of course, was after I realized that my cloak was avoiding me.”

“Maybe you should invest in couples counseling,” I replied as he regained the high ground.

“I really do want to know why it left me,” Loki said in a pleading tone.

 _Does this mean I need to be the mediator?_ I thought at the coat.

Loki looked at me, conjuring an expression of infinite sadness.

“Oh, fine. I guess someone has to be an adult about this.”

“I knew you'd come around. Now, just let me wear the coat for a moment,” Loki insisted, groping at the lapels.

“Please keep your hands to yourself, unless otherwise directed,” I stated in a business-like tone.

“Oh, Nell, you are no fun at all.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where to now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that I promised to update last weekend, but a sudden family emergency came up. All is well, but it was...unexpected.
> 
> *hands over the update and runs away*

Loki was still staring at me when a waspish librarian poked his head down the aisle.

“Ahem. I am just reminding you that fighting is not permitted in the Enoch-Pratt Free Library, and if you would like to continue, then I must ask you both to leave the premises,” he rattled nervously, as Loki turned the force of his glare upon the poor man.

“And how is this matter any of your business?”

A, rather large, security officer came up behind the librarian and spoke in a nasally voice, “It’s okay, Lawrence, I’ll take it from here.”

Loki drew himself up to his full height, “You—“

“It’s fine, officer. We were just leaving. Weren’t we, hon?” I said, stepping next to Loki and giving him a sharp jab to the ribs. The blow connected with more power than I expected, and Loki’s next breath hitched.

“Indeed,” he gasped, draping his long, left arm over my shoulder to place his hand possessively on the coat’s lapel. “We have much to…discuss.”

“Just take your ‘discussion’ out of the library,” said the officer, whose name was Francis, according to his badge. “I don’t want to be scraping fluids off of book spines and giving witness statements. Too much paperwork. Get going.” He jerked his head towards the stairs.

Loki gave a mocking bow to Francis and steered us past the ungainly pair of library employees. He still had his arm over my shoulders as we made our way outside.

“They're just doing their jobs, so there's no need to get wrathful,” I told him as we strolled down the sidewalk. “I know you hurt Glen. He had better not retain any permanent damage, or I can guarantee that you will never get your coat back,” I said, letting the words run themselves out of my mouth.

“Glen is relatively unharmed. Just a knock to the head and a little digging through his memories. He'll suffer the effects of a mild concussion, no more,” Loki dismissed. “You and he have very similar tastes in literature. Though, apparently, he is behind on this month's reading selection.”

“How can you know that? Do you invisibly attend book club? Have you been stalking me?!” I stopped walking, and Loki's arm slid to the side of my neck. He stopped, too.

“I just told you that I dug through _his_ memories, and yet immediately you assume...I'm touched by your show of concern for this man, your supposed friend. I'll make sure he knows you care for him,” Loki said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. His hand remained on the side of my neck.

_Breathe, Nell. He's just trying to get a rise out of you._ Then,

_Is he always like this?_

The coat lifted its shoulders, holding them up for a few beats before falling.

_I'll take that as a “yes.”_

Loki's hand tightened slightly around the base of my neck. “Are you having conversations with my cloak again?” His mouth moved close to my right ear, “It's very, very rude.”

“Would you like me to translate?” I swallowed hard, silently urging my voice not to crack.

“That would make me very, very happy,” he purred.

_I'll bet it would._

“We were just discussing the finer points of your personality. My investigation is ongoing. Don't expect a report any time soon.”

Loki straightened away from me, saying, “Ah, yes, well, I'm a mercurial sort. The cloak would know.” His tone of voice had shifted from a seductive purr into something more terse. “Come, Nell. There must be some place to discuss this matter more privately.”

At this point, the flow of foot traffic had diverted around us; we'd begun attracting curious looks from passersby.

_Is there anywhere with guaranteed privacy in this city? Marie would know. But she's at work. And specifically warned against the exact scenario you are in now. Balls._

I felt a light tug on my left wrist. Looking down at the cuff, I watched the embroidery spin itself into arrows, rotating in on themselves. _Recycle? Repetition?_ The shoulders tightened. _This would be easier if you would just spell things out. You did it once. I can't play pictionary whenever you need to tell me something._ The circles multiplied and continued roiling around my wrists; the design began moving up the sleeves toward my elbows.

“Oh, look, it's frustrated,” Loki said, oozing condescension. “If you would just let me wear it, I'm sure a solution could be reached at a much faster rate.”

I felt my shoulders wrench themselves away from his grasp.

“I don't think the coat likes that idea.”

The coat pushed at my lower back and tugged at my wrists, pulling me down the sidewalk and away from Loki. My feet caught on pavement edges, but I somehow remained upright. _People are going to think I'm possessed._ We came to a stop next to my car. _I suppose we can leave now; I have no more incentive to feed the meter. But where can we go?_

Again, the arrows rotated. I shook my head. _Please be more specific. My brain is already on overload, and it's barely noon. Have pity._ At this last thought, the coat shrugged. The circles retreated and lines took their place. A pattern formed, interlocking much like the bricks on the old-fashioned rowhouses that dominate Baltimore's residential architecture. _Huh, Flemish bond. Just like my house._ The pattern stopped, and the coat gave me a gentle caress.

“I can't take him there!” I exclaimed, forgetting that I was in a public area.

“Can't take me where?” Loki asked, suddenly sauntering up next to me to lean against the car. “If my cloak suggests something to you, I encourage you to listen. It can spot the best dry cleaner in a five mile radius.”

“How do you even KNOW about dry cleaning? I would figure that you magic out any stains or smells. Or that, in addition to being invisible and psychic, this coat has everlasting ScotchGuard,” I choked out, sensing the hysteria beginning to creep back into my voice.

“I can 'magic out' most things, should I ever accidentally spill on any item of my wardrobe. There is only one thing that never seems to come out by magic,” he drawled, indulging my inane questioning.

Struggling to control my breathing, I quirked an eyebrow, “And that would be?” _Don't say blood. Don't say blood. Don't say blood._

“I believe it is known as Sriracha.”

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The extreme weirdness of the the past two days starts catching up with Nell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are sensitive to people having panic attacks, then maybe don't read this chapter.

I threw my hands into the air with exasperation.  _I can't win against either of you, can I?_ The coat gave a shrug. _Fine. FINE. We'll go to my house. Under extreme duress, I acquiesce to this decision._  My arms fell to my sides with a dull thwump.

"What are you looking at?" I snarled at Loki, whose eyes hadn't left my face during my silent exchange with the coat.

"You make the most creative faces when having an internalized discussion. Your lips twist to one side, as if emphasizing their duty of guarding your mouth against things best left unsaid. I could find it endearing, if you weren't being so stubborn about my cloak," Loki intoned, his right hand reaching up tentatively towards my face. His fingertips lightly brushed the corner of my mouth, a cool balm on my flushed skin. I closed my eyes to appreciate the unexpected sensation, then I stepped away from him with a resigned sigh.

"Just get in the car," I whispered hoarsely. My fingers found the key fob in the coat's pocket and unlocked the door. I walked around to the driver's side of the car and threw myself inside, slamming the door behind me. My seat belt was buckled, the car turned on, and I was about to drive away when I realized that Loki still leaned on the side of the car.

I rolled the window down and called out, "If you really want your coat back, you're going to have to get into the car."

"Oh, I'm aware. I would like to know our destination," Loki retorted as he folded his arms across his chest.

"Why, the safest place in Baltimore, of course," I sassed back. "This was the coat's idea. Take your complaints up with it."

"I plan to, once it is back in my possession. Which will be sooner, rather than later," Loki said as he opened the door, folding his long frame into the car with an easy, leonine grace.

"Please keep your hands inside the car at all times, and make sure your safety belt is fastened," I recited under my breath.

Loki let out a low chuckle as he pulled the car door shut, a match for the chuffing sound I heard yesterday evening whilst sitting in coat check, trying to wish myself out of boredom.  _You sure aren't bored now, Nell. You have weirdness coming out of your ears. Isn't it just great?_  I looked at him from the corner of my eye, feeling heat creep up my face. He met my gaze before raking his eyes down my torso. I swallowed.  _Concentrate on driving the car, Nell. Put on your blinker. Look both ways. Be aware of your environment. Not your passenger._

"Just don't complain about the music," I ordered as I pulled into traffic.  _Eyes on the road, Nell._

"Not a word, Miss Keavy," Loki said as he put a finger to pursed lips.

I turned up the volume.  Several minutes passed as a cello concerto swelled to fill my small car.

"What is this?" he asked, as one movement dwindled into the next.

I paused, "No idea. I like classical. It's soothing, no matter which piece it is. Except 'Night on Bald Mountain'. That's the anti-serenity," I paused, "Do you have any particular preference?"

"I appreciate unpredictability in all its forms. Currently, I am admiring you," Loki said. With my peripheral vision, I could see that he was still looking straight ahead, no trace of humor in his countenance.

The car veered halfway into the left lane.  _EYES ON THE ROAD, Nell._

"Perhaps I should drive?"

"Oh, no. I am not letting you drive my car. I don't care if you have a sterling record and a commendation from your local police force, you are NOT driving this car," I said in one breath.  _In. Pause. Out. Pause. In. Pause. Out. You're letting the circumstances catch up with you. You're almost home. Maintain sanity whilst driving. Freak out after. You've been fine up until now. Keep CALM._

Loki looked over at me as I turned the car on to my street.  _Ignoreignoreignore. Eyes front, Nell._   _You are calm. You are cool. You are collected. Find a parking spot._ Luckily, since it was the middle of the day, I easily pulled into a space just before my front door. Turning off the car, I faced him. My voice was beginning to shake as I said, "This is as private as it gets in Smalltimore. Come on."

Swinging my purse over my right shoulder, I walked up the short flight of steps to the front door. I was sweating. The sidewalk was still in the shadow of a low winter sun. A cold breeze stung my face, but it only accentuated the chill left by evaporating sweat on the back of my neck.  _Coat, why are you so hot?_ I could feel the sweat running between my breasts. Touching my fingers to a cheek, I felt an icy, unnatural chill against my face. I quickly removed them, and they shook violently as I groped for my house key. I banged the key around the lock before fitting it and unlatching the deadbolt. I half stumbled over the threshold.  _Good Christ, Nell, pull yourself together. You can't have a panic attack now. Nonononononononono._  My breath came in shallow gasps. I fumbled with the heavy coat sash around my waist. My head spun. My vision narrowed. I was dimly aware of the front door closing.

"Miss Keavy? Nell? Is this some sort of trick? This narrow dwelling doesn't seem very secure at all," Loki said, though I heard it as if cotton plugged my ears.

I pivoted around. My hands clutched feebly at my bag. Loki looked at me.

"Eleanor? Are you alright?" he asked with a hint of alarm.

"I'll be fine once I –" I managed to utter as I collapsed to the floor. I fumbled my purse open, and looked into his eyes. "Half," I croaked as I passed him a small prescription bottle. My hands kept shaking, turning the bottle into a maraca. "I just need –"

The bottle left my quaking hand as the panic attack pulled me from coherent thought.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath. Tea is the cause of, and solution to, all problems.

My eyes were closed against the tide of anxiety, as if my own darkness could keep it at bay.  My hands shook violently in my lap.

 _Cold. So cold. At this rate, your wrists will twitch themselves out of joint._  

I felt a cool touch at my lips, and then the dryness of a pill. I swallowed, and felt the tiny mass press against my soft palate. My throat contracted, pulling what I hoped was the recommended dose of buspar down my esophagus. I could feel it scraping along down my throat, but I couldn't tell if it reached my stomach or dissolved en route.

A hand pressed into my back, making small circles of comfort that I felt through the coat's thick wool.

 “Water,” I managed to croak, prying the syllables from my clenched jaw. The gentle massage stopped, and I heard Loki’s purposeful tread make its way to the sink and turn on the tap.

_Breathe, Nell. In for five. Pause. Out for five. In. Pause. Out. Pause._

 I felt a hand grab for mine, and the solid touch of a glass, but my shaking fingers would not obey. Rattled breathing reached my ears. _Good Christ, Nell, is that you?_ The cup's rim pressed against my lips. As I opened my mouth, my lower jaw trembled, knocking my teeth into the glass with a repeated clinking.

 “Here, Nell. Drink,” Loki said in a hushed tone. His voice reminded me of the cello concerto in the car: a low, melodious timbre meant to soothe and comfort.

 The water slid past my lips; I felt the tiniest bit dribble down my chin. “Thank you,” I whispered after swallowing a small mouthful.

 “Don't thank me just yet. I doubt I'd've been able to pry my cloak from your unconscious form. It seems to have developed an attachment to you. I am merely trying to get my cloak back as soon as possible. Nothing more,” Loki quipped. I could hear as he set the water glass on the floor with a soft thunk. A swish of wind and fabric betrayed his movements, and a moment later I heard the deadbolt latch with a decisive click.

 Slowly but surely, I came back to myself. The buspar was doing its work: my mind began to quiet, my hands ceased their incessant spasms. I opened my eyes to the outside world.

 It was like I had melted into the floor. My knees splayed to one side, and I rested heavily on my right thigh. My hands, now quiet, lay in my lap, palms up in unconscious supplication. My eyes fell to the coat sleeves, which were now covered in jagged, dark green lines up to the elbows. The embroidery zig-zagged harshly, as if to mimic my erratic heartbeat from only a few moments earlier.

_You've been trying to keep me calm all day. Though, I now suspect that it was as much for my well-being as yours._

 My brows knitted together as I pushed myself off the ground. _Whoa, headrush._

“Are you sure you should be standing?” Loki asked, materializing at my side to lightly grasp my forearm.

  _Come on, knees. Do your jobs._ They wobbled, then steadied.

 “I'm fine,” I enunciated firmly, weakly trying to pull my arm from his loose grip. “Do you want to talk about what is going on with your coat, or not? We can do it down here, or in my room. Your choice.” The words were barely out of my mouth before:

  _Crap. Why'd you say that, Nell? Your room is a mess, and there's only one exit. Are you trying to be stupid?_

 I felt the coat give my shoulders a weak caress.

 “I suspect your chambers have more privacy than this main room. If you're concerned about privacy, that is,” Loki purred, his hand reaffirming its hold on my forearm.

 “Unless you want to deal with another panic attack, I suggest you remove your hand,” I lied. I could feel the buspar muting my panic responses; it would be at least an hour before the drug completely left my system.

 He caught my gaze from the corner of his eye, “Of course Miss Keavy.” His hand fell slowly back to his side.

 “But first things first,” I said, bending over to pick up the glass of water from the floor. “Any type of diplomatic discussion needs tea. And after the past couple of days...let's just say that one can never have enough tea. Would you like a cup?”

 Loki looked at me, then cast his eyes to the kitchen. “What's tea?” he asked, in the deadpan that only comes from complete ignorance.

 “HA,” I barked, “You've been here long enough to develop a healthy Sriracha addiction, and yet you don't know what tea is? Seriously? Here I was, panicking about this whole, goddamn situation, and you've never had a goddamn cup of tea? Wow, Nell, overreact much?” I laughed hysterically, wrapping my arms around my torso as I bent double.

 “FOOLISH GIRL! Do not laugh at my ignorance! I've made choices regarding the fates of worlds, and you ridicule me about a beverage?” he thundered back, drawing himself upwards to tower above me.

 The laughter died in my throat. I felt the coat's sleeves squeeze steadily down the length of my arms. My back straightened, and I cocked my head to meet his icy gaze. He broke our tense stand-off first, ducking his angular chin to his chest. _So much for you winning all those staring contests._ His chest heaved slightly, and he spoke in a low, level tone, “I fear that any continued outburst from either of us will not produce the desired results of our meeting,” he said, then paused, steepling his fingers, “I will try this 'tea.' Then we will talk.” Loki raised his head just enough to look at me from beneath his dark lashes.

 “Having tea means we talk here, in the kitchen. I don't like having food in my room. That's how you get ants,” I stated matter-of-factly. I snapped my eyes from his as I walked briskly into the kitchen. My boot heels clunked dulling on the wood floor. Grabbing the kettle from its customary resting place on the back burner, I filled it from the tap. I reset the kettle on the stove with a watery clank and lit the gas. Spinning on a heel to open the cabinet opposite the stove, I slammed into Loki.

 “Do you have a thing about personal space?” I asked, feeling the buspar sedate my tone.

 “I'm not ready to reveal all my secrets, Nell. I am, however, continually bewildered by you. Not twenty minutes ago, you were collapsed on the floor, and now you move about as if nothing happened.”

 “Drugs are a wonderful thing,” I half-joked. “Now, can you move? I need to get the tea out.”

 “Ask me nicely.”

  _Seriously?_

 “Fine. Please move.”

 “The words are there, but not the intent. Try harder, Miss Keavy.”

  _Are you shitting me?_

 The coat gave a small shrug as the tea kettle began to scream behind me. I winced at its shrillness.

 Loki reached a long arm past my waist and turned off the gas. His face was only a few inches from mine. I could smell a clean scent, like a pine forest after a frost. It was all I could do to keep from leaning into his chest.

 “Thank you. May I grab the tea, now?” I softly asked.

 “Of course,” he responded. He stepped closer to the stove as we unintentionally switched places; an integral part of the strangely intimate dance required in tiny kitchens.

 I opened the cabinet and grabbed the first box I saw: a refreshing blend of green tea and mint. I turned back to Loki, “We need mugs, too.”

 He had already found the mugs' cabinet and placed two on the counter.

 “How did you know where they were?” I asked doubtfully.

 “Oh, I have my ways,” he replied with a wink.

 I grabbed two teabags and placed one in each mug. Loki reached for the one nearest him. “Not yet. I need to pour the water. Don't get antsy.” He withdrew his hand. I picked up the kettle, and flinched as I tilted it to fill the mugs; the handle was almost too hot. Involuntarily, I inhaled, making a tutting noise. After filling both mugs, I hissed as I set the kettle on the unoccupied back burner.

 “This tea smells delectable,” Loki announced as he picked up a mug. As he raised the cup to his lips, it steamed heavily, and then abruptly stopped. He took a small sip, and smiled. I grabbed the other mug and sipped cautiously. _Too hot, Nell. Needs at least five minutes to cool to a drinkable temperature._ I gasped in annoyance and set the mug back on the counter.

 “Is it too hot, Nell? I can fix that,” my implausible companion proclaimed. He touched the rim of my mug delicately with a fingertip, wariness clouding his features. My tea steamed quickly for a few moments, then ceased. I tentatively raised it to my lips; it had managed to steep, and cool, to the perfect level of drinkability.

 “Okay. I'm impressed. Give me your tea bag; it'll over steep if you leave it in your cup too long,” I instructed as I grabbed the string of my own tea bag. He handed the string to me hesitantly; I let the remainder drain into his cup before tossing them both in the trash can.

 “Come. Sit,” I said, gesturing to the adjoining room, where the dining room table sat unoccupied. I took my usual place at the head of the table. Loki seated himself to my right. I sipped another mouthful of tea. _Perfect_. The coat untied itself, and the erratic cuff embroidery faded to simple lines around my wrists.

 “Well, Loki. I think we are all sound, mentally. For the moment, at least. Plead your case.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes out...sort of. Who knew that coats need friends, too?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of WWII, Nazis, the Holocaust, and art theft.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m the mediator. I don’t get an opinion. However, I’m the one currently acting as a mouthpiece for the coat. Whatever my feelings are in regards to you, I can’t let them cloud my judgment. The coat has reacted fearfully towards you. I must respect that. Convince me that you have its best interests at heart, and I’ll let you have it back.”  I folded my hands decisively on the table and tried to keep my facial expression neutral.

“Tell me what happened,” I insisted in a soft tone.

“I…I don’t know, exactly…” he replied quietly. His eyes swept back and forth across the table before focusing on my tea mug. “I suppose it started a few days ago. I make a point to visit any cultural institutions that strike my fancy.”

I raised my eyebrows; he met my skeptical gaze with a smirk.

“What? Am I not allowed to enjoy the visual arts? I am respectful, and always leave things just as I find them.”

As he said this, the coat gave my left shoulder a hard squeeze, and the sleeve embroidery transformed into three bars of interlocking Xs.

“You’re lying.”

“Of course I am. Well done, you. Or should I give my compliments to the coat?”

“This isn't helping your cause. The truth, if you don’t mind.”

He huffed, “Fine. I was investigating.”

“Investigating what?”

“The security of your museum’s art collection.”

“So you are…what? A security consultant?”

“Oh no, my dear. Quite the opposite.”

“Don’t tell me that you’re an art thief. That is not what I want to be hearing right now,” I cringed, resisting the impulse to put my fingers in my ears and make nonsense sounds.

"The best in your world, in fact. I've managed to keep my hobby between my coat and I, but now...there's you."

"So you weren't the guest of honor at the reception...you were there to steal something!"

"Alas, you've found me out. How ever did you manage it?"

"How does no one know that you've stolen all this art? If you're as prolific as you claim - "

"Therein lies my genius. I leave copies. Illusions so exact that not even the supposed experts can tell truth from falsehood. It's quite simple, actually," he laughed, preening. "The cloak conceals me while I perform the necessary magics. I'm in and out with no one the wiser. Until yesterday." He glared at me pointedly.

"What were you going to steal?"

"There's a lovely Rothko in that collection. I do enjoy his color field paintings. His work was greatly misunderstood during his lifetime. Tragic, really."

"I would not have pegged you as a Rothko fan. More inclined towards Pollock, I think."

"Oh, I am fond of his work as well."

"Have you been involved in every major art theft?"

"I can't take credit for everything; most art thieves are not as clever as me. Though there are a few pieces I've procured over the years that your authorities have listed as lost or destroyed. I thought it prudent, at the time, to allow that thought process to continue."

"What do you mean 'prudent at the time'?"

"Within the last century, several conflicts arose that warranted my attention. I, ah, ensured that many cultural treasures found their way into my safe hands."

"You mean World War II? The works burned by the Nazis, the 'degenerate art' show pieces, everything stolen from Holocaust victims? From bombed museums? You have it all? The Raphael? The Caravaggio?"

"I may have works by those artists within my considerable collection, yes."

"And where would that be, exactly?"

"Ah-ah, Nell. I won't reveal all my secrets. Just know that it is the most secure location available. It makes this narrow dwelling seem like a broom closet with a broken lock."

"Hey. Don't knock the rowhouse. It's a Baltimore tradition."

"I'm merely illustrating my point. But we are getting away from the problem at hand. Why did my coat, after all our years together without complaint, suddenly decide to abandon me?"

"Maybe it wants to go straight. Maybe it's had enough stealing."

"Perhaps. Do ask it for me, won't you?"

I narrowed my eyes at Loki, but did turn my focus towards the coat.

_Coat, do you want to go straight? To stop stealing?_

The coat shrugged.

_Oh, come on. You must have a reason for leaving Loki last night._

Another shrug.

_Fine. Let's play pictionary, then._

I felt my torso straighten and my shoulders square against the back of the dining room chair. My arms stretched in front of me on the table, parallel.

_Game on, coat._

The embroidery gathered itself at the edges of the cuffs, then exploded up the sleeves. An ever-swirling kaleidoscope of shapes rioted past my elbows, across my chest; the dark green thread eclipsed the black wool. I looked across the table in disbelief at Loki. His mouth hung open, and he caught my stare after a moment, snapping his jaw shut with an audible click of teeth. We both looked back to the coat sleeves in wonder.

The coat was more green than black, with enough intricacy and movement in the design to make the Chi Rho page from the Book of Kells look like a child's coloring book. After a moment, the embroidery slowed its spiraling, and I could make out the most prevalent patterns.

_Knots? Pretzels? Shoelaces? Braids? Weaving?_

No discernible response from the coat.

_Use your brain, Nell. What do all those things have in common? THINK._

I looked up at Loki, who now sported a small grin.

"You know what it wants, don't you?" I accused, narrowing my eyes.

"I've made an educated guess. I'm waiting to see if you are as clever as you've seemed to be throughout this encounter of ours. Until then," he put a finger to his lips, "Not a word."

_Ugh, cryptic much? How about this: category: things that are tied together?_

The coat squeezed my shoulders.

_So, you and Loki are bound together?_

No response.

_But you are, uh, colleagues, at least?_

Shoulder squeeze.

_Friends?_

Another squeeze.

_I don't get it. Why would you leave him if you've been friends for so long?_

The embroidery receded abruptly to a single line, circling the sleeve around my right wrist. I gasped, and thought to the coat, _He's your only friend, isn't he?_

The coat pressed on my right wrist, affirming my conclusion. I took a deep breath as a wave of sadness came over me, and I raised my eyes to meet Loki's gaze. He wasn't smiling.

“I think,” I croaked out, “Your coat is lonely. It only has you. I think it wants a friend. Other than you, I mean.” I glanced down at the coat's sleeves for confirmation. The single line multiplied into a repeating pattern of triangles and hooks.

_Coat hangers? You wanted to be my friend because I work in a coat check?_

A shrug, then a friendly squeeze from the coat supported my findings.

_Why did you stay? You could've gone invisible last night, with me none the wiser. Glen would've scooped you up to return you to Loki._

The pattern of hangers shifted back to the single line on the right cuff. I felt a soft nudge on my left wrist, where another single line had appeared to encircle that cuff. I remembered my quiet musings from the night before; my thoughts teetering along the edge of a madness driven by solitude.

_I'm lonely, too._

The waist sash wound around me and pulled itself snug.

_I knew that no good could come from me talking to myself,_ I chuckled.

“Are you quite done having personal conversations? I'm not used to being ignored,” Loki said, imperiously.

“Calm your tits,” I snapped. “Apparently, the coat wants to be my friend. I don't know exactly what that will entail.”

“I wasn't aware my coat needed friends. I thought it wanted to bring you in on the next heist. And I'm rarely wrong about my coat.”

At this, the coat tugged on my right wrist.

_Do you?_

Dark green sunbursts peppered the black wool around the cuffs.

_I'll take that as a yes._

I looked across to Loki again: an eyebrow was quirked up in a wordless query.

“I thought I made it clear earlier. I am not a thief. Of coats, or art. Especially art.”

“Come now, Nell. Don't you want to see the best in action?”

“No. Definitely not. In fact, I'd rather see you try to return everything you've stolen without the authorities finding out. That would be much more impressive.”

“Ah, reverse psychology. I know it well,” he paused, leaning his tented hands against his mouth. “Just once. Just to prove my commitment to the coat.” He brought his hands to the table. “Just for you, Nell, so that you won't doubt my sincerity. I will return a stolen work. And you shall assist me.”

“Um, why do you need my assistance? Again, just to reiterate for the billionth time, I'm not a thief.”

“You can drive.”

“To where? Your hoard? I didn't think you kept it,” I swallowed, “anywhere drivable.”

“You'd be surprised where four wheels can take you. Two legs, as well, for that matter.”

_The sooner you do this, the sooner you can get back to your life. Deep breaths. Remember that Marie is getting dinner tonight. You'll be fine._

“Do I really have a choice?”

“Of course not.”

“Fine. Where are we going?”

“I'll let you know if you make a wrong turn.”

“Wow. Thanks for being so specific. Any special requests? Bon-bons? A mani-pedi? The soul of my first born child?”

Loki looked at me sharply, then grinned, “You should not joke about such things, Nell. Though I would like to pick the music for our journey.”

“I absolutely refuse to listen to metal or Schoenberg. Anything else is fair game.”

“Do you happen to have 'The Best of Queen?'”

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are allowed to eat, right? And be snarky? That's a thing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who needs a schedule for posting things? I do, obviously. Sorry for the long wait.
> 
> #TW for a little light violence, minor altercation type thing

It was then that my stomach voiced its own gurgling concerns.

“Excuse me,” I said reflexively.

“Why? Are you going somewhere? I thought we were to depart now, together. Or are you rescinding your choice?”

“Um, none of those things. My stomach growled because I'm hungry. I apologized for its gross noisiness as a knee jerk reaction. And now, I'm going to start acting like a good host and ask if you want something to eat.”

I grabbed my tea mug, its contents forgotten during our conversation. The tea was tepid, but drinkable; I downed it in a big gulp.

“I do not feel the need to eat at the moment, but if you do, by all means,” Loki raised his hands, “I would, however, quite enjoy another cup of tea.”

I stood and took his empty mug. I hadn't seen him drink it. _Odd._ Sparing a quick glance at the floor, I spied no puddles of intentionally spilled tea. _Mysterious mysteries._

“The same kind?”

“There's more than one kind?!”

“You have no idea,” I muttered to myself before replying, “Let's just stick with what we know. Experimenting can come later.”

He sought my eyes and grinned mischievously, “I do so enjoy new experiences. Unexpected delights, unforeseen consequences, and fortuitous compatriots.” Loki raised his eyebrows while continuing to stare.

“And on that note, I'm going to make a sandwich,” I said, fleeing to the relative safety of the kitchen. The tea kettle was empty, so I refilled it and set it to boil. _Sandwich time._ I grabbed the bread from the top of the fridge, along with the peanut butter. I opened the fridge door and rifled through the shelves, looking for anything vaguely resembling jam. _Dammit, Dorcas Marie, why'd I let you sign us up for that jelly-of-the-month club? I should put “normal” jelly on the grocery list._ The only jam I found was a plum/lime marmalade. _PB and J shouldn't be such an adventure._

The kettle started screaming as I finished assembling my sandwich. “Hold your horses, I'm coming,” I mumbled as I licked a spot of peanut butter off my thumb. I turned off the burner and grabbed another tea bag from the cabinet, quickly unwrapped it and tossed it haphazardly in the direction of Loki's mug.

“Shit. Fuck, that's hot,” I hissed, pouring the water into the cup.

“Nell? Are you alright?” Loki called from the dining room. The palm and fingers of my left hand were bright red, no doubt still in the healing process from my earlier encounter with the tea kettle's hot handle. _Yay, burns. The injury that keeps on hurting._ I took my sandwich plate in my right hand before grabbing Loki's tea with my left. _Not the smartest choice. It's okay, power through. It's not like you've never been burned before now._ The slight heat radiating from the mug was enough of an irritant to make me squint against the discomfort.

“Here's your tea,” I announced as I placed the mug in front of him, shaking my hand in a futile attempt to cool it.

“What's wrong with your hand?” Loki eyed it with suspicion.

“I came into contact with one too many hot things today. Burned it a little. But it's happened before, and will happen again.” I sat and began to eat my sandwich. _This is a strange flavor combination, but not entirely gross. I'll have to tell Marie. I still wish we had grape, though._ I was three bites deep in my sandwich when I realized that Loki was focused very intently on the coat sleeves. I glanced at my wrists, but only caught a glimpse of movement as the embroidery fell into simple lines. _Whatever._ I was in the midst of a fourth bite when -

“Let me see your hand, Nell.”

“You can see it just fine from over there. Use your eyes.”

“Very well. Give me your hand, Nell,” he said, annoyance creeping into his tone.

“Why?” I put my sandwich down with a plop and glared at him over my glasses.

He seized my left wrist with his left hand, pulling me out of my chair. I fell to my knees. _That's going to bruise. I'm going to have fun explaining those to Marie._ I snorted.

“What the flying fuck, Loki?” I glowered up at him. His grip on my wrist was firm. He rotated it to examine my palm and didn't return my eye contact. I tried to pull away from his grasp, but he didn't relent. Instead, he brought his right hand above my palm and delicately touched it with his fingertips. Coolness spread from the points of contact and I could see the redness rapidly fading. I gasped.

“Must you always question me? I've fixed your hand. Aren't you grateful?”

“You could've asked first.”

“I did. You kept challenging me.”

“You weren't making yourself very clear.”

“Can't you at least say 'thank you'?”

I bit back another retort. “Thank you,” I murmured.

“What was that? I didn't quite catch it.”

“Thank. You,” I said firmly. “Will you let me up, now?”

“As you wish,” he responded, smoothly turning his grip on my wrist to help me to my feet. I sat back on my chair and took an angry bite of my sandwich.

“Your tea's probably oversteeped.”

He sipped, “Tastes fine. Though, if I may?” He pulled the tea bag from his cup and set it on my plate.

“Why did you fix my hand?” I asked between bites.

Loki placed the mug back on the table, wrapping his slender fingers around it. “It needed fixing. And...the cloak asked me to do it.”

Silence hung in the air between us.

“You should've just said so in the first place. I'd've let you. Didn't need to get all handsy.”

“I'm used to doing as I please. It's highly unusual for anyone to refuse my, ah, requests.”

_You should have warned me, coat._ It shrugged in response. _Whatever._

I finished my sandwich and dusted the crumbs from my now-totally-healed hands.

“Shall we?”

“Indeed we shall,” Loki stood and drained his tea.

I looked around for my purse. “Where did I leave my bag?”

“I took the liberty of placing it on the low table in the entry hall,” he said, pointing to the living room, “While you were, ah, indisposed.”

“Great. Excellent. Thanks,” I replied as I snatched it from the coffee table. My scarf lay next to it, no doubt also placed there by Loki. _The coat is warm enough, and it's gotten a little sunnier._ I let the scarf lie. I unlocked the front door and strode out, greeted by a stiff breeze that was almost spring-like. Loki followed closely at my heels. As I stopped and turned to lock the door, he slammed into me.

“Still having that issue with personal space?” I joked.

“Apparently we both are,” he retorted.

I laughed to myself and shook my head. He moved out of my way to lean against the door frame. “Did you still want to listen to Queen? I have a few of their songs on my iPod...” I said as I locked the door. “Why Queen?”

“I like their dramatic, operatic style. And there's no comparison to Freddie Mercury. His stage presence...his voice. There'd never been anyone like him...” Loki stared out at the street and a hungry look crossed his face.

“Well, I'm going to get in the car. I can give you a private moment with your thoughts, if you'd like.”

“Are you implying something, Miss Keavy?”

“Not at all. I just didn't know you were such a, um, devoted fan.”

He snorted derisively, but walked around to the passenger side of the car. I unlocked the doors, and we got inside.

“Will you please tell me where we're going? Am I going to need money for tolls?”

“Head south. To the main road. And I never pay for tolls. They're tedious. I'll let you know where to stop. Also, I believe I was promised music.”

“Here. You do know how to work an iPod, right?”

He gave me a withering look as I pulled into the street. “You didn't know what tea was. I think it's an honest question.”

“I do have certain priorities,” he muttered as the click wheel made sounds of progress. “Ah. I think this will do nicely.”

 

Tonight I'm gonna have myself a real good time  
I feel alive and the world it's turning inside out, yeah  
I'm floating around in ecstasy  
So don't stop me now don't stop me  
'Cause I'm having a good time, having a good time...

 

Freddie Mercury sang as we made our way south, out of the city of Baltimore.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue-only chapter. Everyone loves a road trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Queen songs belong to Queen.

"Please tell me where I'm driving. This whole 'journey into mystery' thing is getting old."

"You refused to inform me of our earlier destination; it's only fair that I do the same."

"Since when has fairness ever been a factor for you?"

"Ouch, Nell. I think you've bruised my ego."

"Maybe I should insult you more often to put us on a level playing field. That seems, ah, fair, to me."

"That was very self deprecating of you."

"I play to my strengths."

_I see a little silhouetto of a man-oh_

_Scaramouche scaramouche_

_Will you do the fandango?_

"Shit. Crap. Shit. I forgot to leave a note for Marie. Again. This shouldn't take all afternoon, right?"

"It may. It may not."

"Ballsack. Would it kill you to give me a straight answer?"

"No, but giving you cryptic ones is so much more entertaining. For me, at least."

"And that's what's really important here. Your entertainment. Look, we've been driving for over a half hour. I can guess where we're headed. Will you confirm or deny that Washington is our final destination?"

"…Confirm…"

"Unless you have magic, traffic banishing skills, we definitely won't be back before rush hour. Good Christ, Marie is going to be pissed."

_Doo bee doo doo doo doooo…_

_Doo bee doo doo doo doooo…_

"That's probably her now. Sit there and be quiet. I'd prefer Marie not scold me for my actions just yet."

"I like it when you get forceful and insistent, Miss Keavy."

"Just shut up. Hey, Marie!"

"Nell! Did you find my note this morning? I'm checking MegaBus fares to New York and comparing them with the costs of shipping a large, heavy item. Did you know it'd be cheaper for both of us to go there and back than it would be to ship a, um, sizable garment? You still have some vacation time, right? The twins have room at their place this weekend…"

"Dude, slow down. Yes, I found the note. Don't buy us MegaBus tickets. And my vacation time is precious; I won't use it to go on a wild goose chase all over Manhattan. Also, the last time I saw the twins, they tried the bait-and-switch in order to compare notes. There's no way I'm sleeping anywhere close to them."

"They weren't that bad. And they are still adorable. Why don't you want to go to New York? I thought you wanted to find Mister I-Wear-Impressive-Outerwear-Loki?"

"It's just, um…he's probably still in Baltimore. I think I have an idea as to where he might be."

"Nell. Do. Not…I don't want this to turn into a 'Barry McBride' situation. It wouldn't end well."

"And who would be the 'Barry McBride'?"

"…It could be a mutual thing…but whoever starts the creepy stalking first, they're the 'Barry McBride.' Right now, though, I'm leaning more towards you."

"You were the one who dated him!"

"Only until I realized he was a creeper!"

"Loki's not that kind of a creeper! And do not call me the 'Barry McBride!'"

"…How do you know he's not that kind of creeper?"

"…What I meant to say –"

"Nell, did you go looking for him?"

"…Maybe."

"Did you find him?"

"Um…yes?"

"ELEANOR BITCH-FACED-LIAR KEAVY! WHERE THE _FUCK_ ARE YOU?!"

"WHAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU. I'M DRIVING THROUGH A TUNNEL. A DEAD ZONE. I'LL CALL YOU BACK!"

"DON'T YOU DARE HANG UP ON ME, NELL KEAVY–"

"Bye, Marie...That went well, I think."

"Oh, indeed. Marie sounds, ah, quite fearsome."

"She's just jealous that I'm having an adventure without her."

"So this is an adventure, now? Not a 'Barry McBride' situation?"

"You aren't allowed to make that reference. You don't know the context."

"I'll do what I want."

"Just drop it."

"Fine."

"Fine."

_The show must go o-o-on_

_On with the, on with the_

_Shooooowwwww..._

"This may be a random question, but…do you ever call the coat anything other than 'coat'?"

"No. It's a cloak. I call it 'my cloak.' Or sometimes 'the cloak.' We don't communicate much beyond whatever business is at hand."

"Oh."

"Why? It's not a pet. It's my partner. I've never seen it object. It's never expressed any desire to be called anything different."

"It's got a personality. A certain panache. I just thought it might have a name and you aren't telling me because you don't want us to be friends."

"That's the most childish reason for withholding information I've heard today."

"Um, what about, 'I'll do what I want?'"

"That's something I said, not something I heard."

"Poh-tay-toh, poh-tah-toh."

"What does that even mean?"

"It's the same thing, pronounced two different ways. Means your argument is invalid. Maybe I'll start calling it, 'Steve.'"

"Don't you dare."

"I'll do what I want."

_You're my sunshine_

_And I want you to know_

_That my feelings are true_

_I really looooove youuuu…_

"Another question."

"I don't suppose I can stop you from asking it."

"You've never been in my house before today, right?"

"I, personally, have not entered your narrow excuse for a dwelling before today."

"You, 'personally?'"

"Yes. My personal body had never been inside your house."

"Have you ever been in it, um, not bodily?"

"…There may have been a brief encounter between you and my double…"

"YOUR DOUBLE?!"

"Yes, yes. Basic magic, for me. Calm yourself. Nothing untoward happened. I am beginning to worry for the safety of other travelers."

"Why was your DOUBLE in my house? With me?"

"I was trying to locate my cloak. Now I'm beginning to worry for you. Do remember to breathe."

"I thought you couldn't locate it because of its invisibility, uh, stuff."

"You eavesdropped. Naughty. The coat remains invisible, even to me. The suspected thief, however, would be easier to track."

" _You_  were the one who left me that creepy mirror message."

"Oh, Nell. Don't be so aggrieved. It was just a bit of mischief."

"It's stalker behavior. It's creepy."

"Ah, but is it, um, the 'Barry McBride' level of behavior?"

"If you ever do something like it again, you will be so far beyond Barry McBride. And what did I tell you about making that reference?"

"I believe you can recall my answer. Though I would be happy to reiterate."

"I'll just bet you would."

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Just. Stop distracting me."

_It's the terror of knowing what this world is about_

_Watching some good friends_

_Screaming, "Let me out!"_

"Take this exit west."

"Just say, 'left' or 'right.'"

"Left, then. Take the ramp."

"I probably should've mentioned this before, but I loathe driving in Washington. Mass transit is so much easier than dodging pot holes and jay-walking pedestrians. And not nearly as difficult."

"We are doing this my way. I prefer driving."

" _You_  aren't driving."

"Allow me to rephrase: I prefer to be driven. You never know who you will run into on those large transports. And do recall my 'thing' with personal space."

"You are such a petulant child right now."

"Make the next left."

"I'm going to have so much fun finding a parking spot."

"Left, again. Then take the second right."

"This is the Mall..."

"How very observant of you. Turn right here. Park as soon as it is convenient."

"Then be helpful and keep your eyes peeled."

"That sounds most unpleasant. But look there! That space would accommodate this small vehicle quite nicely."

"Sometimes, I think you choose to be ignorant of certain colloquialisms."

"Maybe I just like hearing you explain them."

"Whatever. We're here? I thought we were returning something."

"Oh, we are. In the West Building. But I will need my cloak back before we can do so."

"Steve stays with me."

"For the love of—please, please do not call my cloak 'Steve.'"

"I do what I want."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nell's ringtone is the delightfully haunting, alien melody featured in Close Encounters of the Third Kind.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get angsty, and Nell waxes poetic.

I stepped out of the car and folded my arms across my chest, defiantly smug. _What do you think, Steve?_  The coat shrugged, and an evenly balanced scale appeared on the left arm. _Don't really care either way, huh?_  I took in a breath of late winter air.  The sun shone, making the trees lining the National Mall cast dim shadows.  A few joggers made their steady way towards the George Washington Monument, regular footfalls crunching the sandy gravel of the Mall's numerous pathways.  I locked the doors and walked around the car to join Loki on the wide sidewalk.

“Are you sure I won't get a parking ticket?” I asked, doubtful.  He waved a hand absentmindedly, and a sticker materialized on my windshield.  “I should keep you around just to get out of moving my car on street cleaning days,” I joked.

Loki huffed, impatience furrowing his brow,  “I just need something out of a pocket.”

“Marie and I searched all the pockets; there's nothing there, not even lint,”  I pawed through them just to be certain.

“Nothing there for _you_.  My pockets are never empty,” he said as he reached into the one on the right side of his trousers.  “See?”

“Mew, mew, mew...”

“Is that a kitten?”

“I'm simply illustrating my point.  Think of all the possible things the pockets of my cloak may contain...” he said, quietly tucking the kitten away.  The mewling stopped.  “Don't look at me like that, Nell.  The kitten is fine.”

“Can't you just,” I waved my hands in circles, “tell me how to get whatever it is out?”

“It only responds to me,” he said, miffed.

_Don't you control it, Steve?_

The waist sash loosened at my question.   _Seriously, Steve?_   _You can control my movements and go invisible, but you can't access Loki's secret pocket compartments?  How come you could give me that note?_  A padlock swirled into existence on the right cuff.   _I assume that means everything else is locked._  Steve shrugged. _Well, if that's the case, can Loki wear you?  Just to get whatever is in your pockets?_  Steve belted shut.

“Let me guess.  My cloak with not consent?  This is getting tiresome,” Loki said as he swiped his palm down his face.  The wind gusted, blowing his suit jacket open. I shivered in sympathy, though Steve kept the chill at bay.

“You keep making your thinking face, and as endearing as I find it, I would like to know what is going on between you two,” he whined.

“Steve won't let me remove, ah, him.  Like, I'm trying to move my arms right now.  And I can't,” I said, becoming more annoyed by the second. _Really, Steve?  You are worse than Loki.  Stop being such an infant._

No response.

“I think I pissed off Steve.”

“How, exactly?”

“I called him an infant,” I said.   _And compared him to you.  Which I think was more upsetting._

Loki let out a throaty chuckle, “That would do it.  No matter.  If I may just reach into the left pocket?”  

“So, you don't need to be wearing it to get to things.”

“It helps, but no.  I didn't think you'd appreciate it if I got, ah, what did you call it?  Handsy?”

“Asking is always appreciated.  Especially if you enjoy the continued use of your limbs.  I suppose you can do what you need to do.  But, no funny business,” I said with a glare.

“On my honor, Miss Keavy.  Though, it might be a bit awkward if we were to be seen by passersby.  Ask, um, the cloak for invisibility, won't you?”

I sighed, “Fine.”   _Steve, would you mind terribly_ \- We winked out of sight before I could finish my thought.    

“Please take my hand, Miss Keavy,” Loki said with a smirk.  I grabbed his left elbow, and he vanished.

“I guess Steve likes to share,” I said under my breath.

“Can you stop calling it 'Steve'?  I know a Steve, and the last time we met, it wasn't, ah, pleasant.”

“Nope.  Sorry.  The coat feels like a 'Steve'.  You can deal 'til we get everything sorted out.”

Loki snorted and rotated his arm so that we now gripped each others' forearms.  He pulled me closer by a half step.  I felt his cool breath against my left ear as he whispered, “Try not to move.  This is going to feel a little strange.”

“What?”  The word was scarcely past my lips when I felt him grab my hip with his right hand.  It inched down my left side until it encountered a pocket, then reached inside.

“Ready?”

“For what?”

“I'm about to get _very_ close to you.”

“If you try to cop a feel, then I am not responsible for any actions that may result in your injury.”

“I like my partners willing, Nell.  Just stay still, and I promise to leave your, um, virtue, to your discretion.”

“Then I'm as ready as I'll ever be, Loki.”

He plunged his arm into the pocket, past his elbow, then I couldn't feel how deep it went.  As his arm continued to dive, he loosened his grip on my forearm.  His head moved from near my ear to somewhere much lower; I felt his forehead rest against my torso, just above my navel.

“Just how deep are these pockets?” I asked.

“A better question would be, 'Why hasn't Loki organized his things?'” he said, his voice muffled by my wool covered torso.  “Ah, there it is!”

I felt him move up my body; his breath smelled of green tea and mint as it passed my nose.  I inhaled, searching for the source.

“I'm letting go of you now, Miss Keavy,” he whispered in my ear.  “Reach into your pocket.”

Loki snapped into view sporting a soft gaze and the ghost of a smile.  I raised my right hand, and saw that I was visible again, too.   _Thanks, Steve._  My hand twitched as I felt inside the, previously very empty, left pocket.  A corner of cool, velvety wood met my fingers.  I jerked my head up to meet his eyes.

“I thought we were going to your, ah, vault...hoard...place...thing.”

“I never said anything about going there.  Merely that it was in a very secure location.  You drew your own conclusions.”

“Whoa.  Back up.  Hold on.  My brain needs to catch up.  You keep.  Your stolen art.  In.  Your.  Pockets?!” Anger made my voice shrill. _How is this possible?  Steve?  You knew about this?_  A shrug. _I am this close to washing my hands of this whole business!  You two are made for each other.  These schemes and guessing games are driving me mad!_  I breathed heavily, folding my arms in frustration.

“Nell, are you quite alright?  Do you need one of those small capsules again?” Loki asked, worry coloring his tone.

I choked out a laugh, “Ha.  This isn't panic, Loki.  This is anger.  I'm tired of being manipulated by you.  And Steve.  How can you keep all this priceless art in your pockets?  Do you even look at it?  No.  Don't answer that.  Whatever you say, it'll just make me angrier.  Once this piece is back where it belongs, I'm leaving.  You can find your own way out of DC.  I'm done.”  I spun on my heel and walked quickly up the steps to the entrance of the National Gallery of Art's West Building.  I untied the waist sash to let the late winter air cool my temper. _Jesus-Christ-on-a-crutch, Steve.  Why didn't you tell me that you had it the whole time?  I thought that we had at least reached some level of friendship...alliance type of thing._  A gentle pressure caressed my arms.   _Why me, Steve?_  A shrug.   _Oh, it was rhetorical, anyways._

I pulled open the museum's front door and was blasted by a rush of warm air.  Hair that had managed to escape the confines of my braid blew across my face.  I joined the short queue at the bag check, and absentmindedly showed my bag's interior to a bored security guard in turn.

I’d visited the National Gallery many times, but its Classical Revival grandiosity never failed to inspire awe.  The central rotunda was modeled after the Pantheon in Rome, with a lovely fountain surrounded by immense, green marble columns supporting the great dome.  Voices echoed around me, an unintelligible cacophony of children and tourists wondering aloud about a possible bathroom location.  I headed through the great doorway on the left side of the rotunda and quickly ducked into a side gallery. _Focus, Nell.  Let the art do its thing._  

I lost myself in observation; the space I’d wandered into featured late Renaissance era portraiture from northern Europe.  My eyes wandered from piece to piece, taking in little details: the delicacy with which this lace cuff was rendered; the cheeks ruddy from health or cold or drink; the subtle flick of pigment that turned a mouth into the smallest of grins.  I marveled at the minute intricacies of personality communicated by a sitter’s hands or the way their hair fell just so against a collar.  My feet took me through Baroque still-lifes, where I continually stilled my hands from grabbing a glass of wine within a frame or trying to catch a water droplet before it fell from the jaw of a fresh-caught fish.   _Does Loki have these, too?  Are they secreted away in your pockets for his eyes only?  Is this one of them?  A master’s resumé in a grand, gilded frame?_  

I felt the corner in my pocket.  The edge felt like a narrow checkerboard of positive and negative space, the inches beyond were smooth to the touch.  I cautiously groped further, and my fingertips brushed scrollwork, carved deep into the wood.  Moving slow, my fingers crawled along and softly brushed against a flat surface that could only be canvas.  I jerked them back, very aware of the potential damage they could cause to aged paint. _Which one are you?_  My eyes fell to the work in front of me.  A heaping plate of figs crowded the lower right corner, while a round loaf of crusty bread sat between it and a dark green bottle.   _Picnic, anyone?_  I chuckled softly.  In my wanderings, I’d made my way into a gallery of Spanish Baroque still-life. _I could’ve sworn there was a Velasquez floating around here somewhere.  Maybe the next gallery?_

Poking my head past the door frame, I glanced around the space.  It was empty, save for a pair of gray couches in the center of the room.  A large work by Bartolomé Murillo dominated the wall opposite me.  Three smaller paintings hung on the wall to my left: the leftmost was a portrait of a nobleman; the center, of two women gazing brazenly out at viewers; and on the right was a young woman focused on her sewing.  

_There’s the Velasquez: The Needlewoman._

A white shawl draped her shoulders as she hunched over her task.   _She’s so focused on her work that she neglects everything else.  Even Velasquez noticed it.  See, Steve, how we are crowded into her space?  How willfully oblivious she is?  The king could’ve been in front of her and she wouldn’t’ve cared._  I rubbed my hands down my face.

_Is this what I’ve become?  Someone so into a menial task that they can’t see the majesty all around them?  So obsessed with day-to-day existence that they ignore the inherent spontaneity of human interaction?  How am I supposed to feel, Steve?_

There was no response from Steve as I continued to stare at The Needlewoman, questioning my latest life choices.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki explains himself. Mostly.

“She reminds me of you, the first time I saw you, with your head pressed to your table. I didn't expect you to speak to me; I thought you were ignoring the outside world. I'm glad you did, though,” a soft, male voice said, jolting me out of my introspection. “Why does it bother you so, that I've got all this art?”

I turned and saw Loki sitting in one corner of the couch; his eyes met mine with curious inquiry. I flopped heavily into the couch's opposite corner and held his gaze as I replied, “It's not _yours_. No matter how good your fakes are, they're still fakes. You've got the real ones squirreled away.” I shoved my hand into the empty right pocket and pulled out its lining to emphasis my point. “When's the last time you took a moment in front of a work and imagined yourself with the artist during the process? Or as the intended audience, knowledgeable of all possible innuendos? When a single brushstroke made the difference between just-a-painter and an Artist? How can you have all of these wonderful works and be so nonchalant? I...don't understand.”

“I'll have you know that I do spend a good amount of time among my collection. It's just, um, not as organized as I'd like it,” he said with a sigh. “And you make a passionate argument. Allow me to explain my reasons. Please.”

I sniffed, “I don't know. How can I trust that you're telling me the real story? You've managed to dance around giving me a single straight answer all day. What could you possibly say now that would make me believe you?”

Loki inhaled, but didn't immediately reply. I turned my gaze to The Needlewoman, half-expecting her to glance up from the force of my stare. My left hand drifted into Steve's left pocket; I rubbed the frame's corner with surprisingly steady fingers. As I felt the checkered surface, my eyes fell to The Needlewoman's frame. A gilded, checkerboard border was the outermost edge, and the two inches beyond were smooth and dark. Golden scrollwork carved deep into the innermost edge hugged the canvas. _I've seen this painting dozens of times. Why am I getting the very strange sense that I'm missing something very important?_ I caressed the cool wood in Steve's pocket again.

_Holy. Shit._

_Is that a Velasquez in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?_ I giggled quietly before choking off the sound. “Loki-”

“Nell, I've been causing mischief for longer than you've existed. I've met artists and poets and playwrights. I've traveled this world and countless others. My cloak was my constant companion. It's never acted like this. Not once.

“I started collecting art a, um, relatively short time ago. At first, I took indiscriminately, my choices based upon what would rankle the humans most. Then, as your skills evolved, my tastes did also. I developed a bit of a soft spot for struggling artists. The ones who were repeatedly told that they were unworthy of praise or patronage. I guess you could say that I, ah, identified with them, with their quests for approval.

“So I took pieces that I loved, by artists who were not, at least as far as I judged, appreciated enough by their peers and contemporaries. It was my intention to keep their works safe until such a time arose that their talents would be appreciated. It's been so long since I've thought about my original intentions.

“I think the time has come to honor them. And I believe I have my cloak to thank. It found you. In turn, you've helped me rediscover a long forgotten purpose.

“Thank you, Nell,” Loki said.

“Wow. I was not expecting that,” I deadpanned. “So, what now? Globe trotting and making exchanges? Speaking of which, this, um, thing in my pocket? It's a painting, isn't it?”

“Oh, Nell, stop playing coy. I actually find it quite serendipitous that you stopped in this particular gallery, after wandering through so many others.”

“Well, there _are_ couches in here, to be fair. And by serendipitous, do you mean that the painting in my pocket is in this room?”

“I think you've gathered exactly which one it is, Miss Keavy, and now you're trying to get me to spell it out for you. Make your guess; I'll tell you if it's the right one.”

I narrowed my eyes in mock concentration. Standing was more difficult than I anticipated; the couch springs needed replacing. I glanced at Murillo's two women, whose jovial countenances gave me confidence. The corner of frame in my left pocket knocked into my wrist as I swung my arm lightly past it. _I am 90% sure that the real Velasquez is in this pocket._ My feet stopped in front of The Needlewoman, barely two feet from the painting. _Moment of truth, Nell. Put up or shut up._ I groped at my left hip, my fingers dancing around the intended target. When they finally found the corner of wood, I let out the breath I was unaware that I held. I gripped the corner and pulled. And kept pulling. _This didn't seem that large...And it's much lighter than I expected._ After a few more seconds, the painting was free of its woolen confines. I readjusted my grip on its corner and grabbed the opposite one. In my hands, I held a genuine Velasquez. _Check off that box from the bucket list._ I looked down at The Needlewoman, half-expecting the perspective to have changed based upon my current view.

“I knew you'd get it right,” Loki said, interrupting my train of thought.

I looked over my left shoulder at him. He still sat at the far end of the couch, his arms resting along the back and side.

“How does this work? Do I just-” I mimed tossing the priceless painting at the wall.

Loki leaped to his feet at my gesture, “Have some respect!” He grabbed at the frame, but instead of yanking it from my grasp, he just ran his long fingers down its side. “You _were_ joking, weren't you?”

I snorted, “It's an authentic work by Diego Velasquez. Of course I'm not throwing it at the wall. I'm not an uncultured simpleton.”

Loki smiled to himself and laughed softly, “Just hang it on the wall. Over the copy. They should just...fuse.”

“But how will it stay on the wall?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Well, the copy may be false, but its mountings are not. The true work will fit right into place.”

_Is this the truth, Steve?_ I felt a light pressure on my right elbow. _If you say so._ I stepped closer to the wall and raised the painting to just above my eye level. As I moved it towards its double, my arms started trembling with nervous energy. I stood on the tips of my toes in order to line up the frame properly. The painting wobbled in my hands, not quite even with its partner.

“Give me a hand? You're taller,” I requested. Instead of a reply, I felt a very solid body press against my back. Loki's arms reached around me to hold the frame. His palms brushed over the backs of my fingers, hovering without crushing them.

“Easy does it, Nell,” he said, the low sound originating from somewhere above my right ear. Together, we reached up a little farther and felt the top of the frame connect with the wall. Our hands slid down the frame in tandem, letting The Needlewoman rest gently against the wall, sinking into its double until there was only one. Loki dropped his hand and stepped back from me. I let my hands falls to my sides in a slow, downward arc.

_It's back where it belongs._ I exhaled, and my breath hitched in my throat as I fought back a sob. A tear welled out of my eye, but I ignored it. Instead, I looked at the Velasquez, the real Velasquez. _I did it! I put it back and it's real and I know it's real and this is the best feeling and I want to be overwhelmingly happy as much as possible._ Steve rubbed my arms. I glanced at the sleeves, which were now covered with the shapes of dark green fireworks. _Guess you're happy when I'm happy, huh?_ Slapping my hands on my thighs, I sniffed back another tear and turned to Loki. He'd resumed his seat on the couch, but was now bent over, with his elbows on his knees and his angular chin in his hands. He stared very intently at the floor. I walked the few steps to stand in front of him, the thunk of my bootheels warning him of my approach.

“Thank you, Loki. For helping me. And for wanting to put it back. So...I'm giving Steve back to you,” I said, untying the knot at my waist. Steve did not protest. I rolled my shoulders back and let the coat fall into my waiting hands. I caught it around the collar and dragged it in front of me to hand it over to Loki. “Here. Take it.”

“After all this fuss, you're just handing it back? You could be dragging this out, trying to keep this very powerful, very magical thing.”

“I figured that I've dragged this out long enough. I just want to go back to being the coat check girl. I don't need anymore adventures with a coat that isn't mine. And as much as I would absolutely love to return more of your art collection, I can't. I have a life. A roommate. A job. The joy of art won't fill my gas tank.”

“You can't leave now, Nell! Things were just getting interesting. I remember...how I used to be. And it's been such fun trading verbal barbs with you. I've had a more enjoyable time in the past day with you than I've had in decades,” Loki pleaded. He grabbed Steve, but made no move to pull him from my grasp. We held Steve gently between us for a moment, then Loki stood.

“Keep the coat for now; it's getting cold outside.”

“Don't you get cold without it?” I asked.

“The cold doesn't really bother me much. Besides, you'll need it on our next journey,” he replied, brushing past me on his way out of the gallery. I squinted at his retreating back. _What the fuck? Now it's like he doesn't even want Steve back._ I shook the coat open and pulled it on with a strange, easy grace. “Where are we going now?”

“I have a business proposition for you, Nell,” he said over his shoulder.

“I hope it doesn't involve illegal activities or driving in the D.C. rush hour,” I said under my breath.

“This is something best discussed over dinner. Do you like phở?”

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a stroll through the city...it's dinner...so that would make this...what?

I followed Loki's purposeful gait out of the galleries. He wove through the milling crowds like a reef shark; people instinctively knew to get out of his way. He took long steps across the rotunda, and soon we exited to the street.

"Hey, wait up, will you?" I said as I wrestled with my purse to find my car keys.  _I swear this is a black hole. Maybe Loki can make me one of those fancy pockets…on second thought, that's probably not the best idea._

"Didn't I hear you object to driving in the city? I thought we would walk. It's not a far distance to our destination," Loki replied without breaking stride.

"Walking is fine. Running, though, is asking a bit much right now," I panted.

"But it's just a seven minute journey at this pace," he whined. "It's a pity that I don't have my seven-league boots; I'd be there all the quicker."

"And leave me behind in the process," I retorted.

"Oh, I'd take you with me. But then my boots might decide that they like you better, too, and my arsenal of stealthy accoutrement would be sorely depleted," he said, his tone clipped with annoyance.

"I'm giving Steve back. I thought I was clear about that," I huffed as we stopped at a corner.

"The cloak being in my possession has no bearing on its preferences. It would try to get back to you, I think, if I ever did something to upset it. It knows, now, that you have a talent for putting me in my place."

I shut my mouth, lest it contradict him.  _Really, Steve? You think I can make Loki listen to me?_

A light pressure between my shoulder blades reassured my doubts.

The crosswalk sign changed, allowing me to follow Loki through throngs of tourists and suit-wearing business people. I made no attempt to reestablish our conversation; I was still reeling inside from his words. Keeping up with Loki's quick pace made me sweat inside Steve's bulk, so I untied the waist sash. Steve billowed out behind me, cutting an impressive silhouette. I caught a glimpse of myself as I passed a shop window: a frazzled young woman glanced back, her hair slowly falling out its braid, but behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses, her eyes gleamed with excitement. _Well, don't I look a little disheveled. And maybe a bit crazy. Just a little. But this is the most fun I've in a long time. At least, once I got past the art theft. And the existence of super-beings. And semi-sentient articles of clothing. And -_

Doo bee doo doo doo doooo…

Doo bee doo doo doo doooo…

 _Goddammit, Marie._ I hit the “decline call” button. _I will talk to you. Later. After I figure out what exactly I plan on doing with my life. So, not in a timely manner, then._ I inhaled a lungful of cooling air. _Pull your shit together, Nell. Keep walking._ I looked up, escaping my reverie to cast about for Loki.

He was gone.

“Fuck,” I swore under my breath. _Way to distract yourself, Nell. Do you know where he was heading, Steve?_ Pressure ran down my left arm, and I brought my wrist closer to eye level. I walked slowly, trying to seem leisurely as opposed to lost.

A map created itself on Steve's left cuff, complete with a small, pulsing chevron to mark our current location. Dots appeared, seemingly at random.

 _Are these p_ _hở_ _places?_

Steve squeezed my right shoulder.

_Which is his favorite?_

A dot on Steve's map grew larger; it was several long blocks away.

 _Seven minute walk, my ass. That's going to take at least twenty. May as well head that way._ I sighed in frustration. _Maybe Loki'll've realized that he outpaced me._ I looked down at the left cuff. _Now I know how you know about all those dry-cleaning places. You're better than a GPS, Steve._

Swirling designs appeared around the map's border.

_Keep acting cute and I'll never give you back to Loki._

My right pocket mewed softly.

“Jesus, Steve, I was joking. You are such a bad influence,” I said aloud. I clapped a hand over my traitorous mouth. _We are in public, Steve. If people see me talking to myself, they'll think I'm crazy. Wait, who am I kidding? This is D.C. They won't do anything about it. Because if they see something, they'll say nothing, and drink to forget._ I laughed to myself, “Come on, Steve. He's probably there by now.”

I walked as fast as I dared; the streets and sidewalks were beginning to fill with the early evening's crowd of commuters.

The sun was just sinking into the skyline as Steve and I arrived at our destination, according to Steve's map. The street was quiet. A bodega and a cash-only liquor store occupied the ground floor of the building in front of me.

“Where exactly is this place, Steve?”

There was a small tug on my right sleeve. A narrow stairwell receded into the ground, and above it was a vivid green sign, with the restaurant's name written in English and Vietnamese.

“Talk about a hole-in-the-wall. I hope they have meatballs,” I said as I walked down the steps. “Loki'd better be here, or I am going to scream.” I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

A bell jingled my arrival as light poured a parallelogram into the stairwell.

“Hi, welcome! How many?” chirped the hostess.

“Uh, I'm meeting someone. Tall guy, pale, black hair,” I told the hostess. _Dressed impeccably well; kind of a dick. Known colloquially as the god of mischief. Answers to Loki. Has a problem with personal space._

“Oh! Do you mean Mr. Loki?” she said, tapping the side of her nose with a pen. “He's at his table in the back. He's expecting you?”

“He should be,” I said, sucking at my teeth.

“Oh, okay. Follow me,” she waved a menu to indicate direction.

We went through the small, bright dining room and entered a narrow, brick-walled hallway. I heard the clattering of pans as we passed the kitchen; I caught a whiff of beef broth and herbs. My stomach growled.

We stopped at the end of the hallway. A doorway on my left was covered by a red curtain, which the hostess held aside with one hand while passing me a menu with the other.

“Have a nice dinner!” she said brightly.

I stepped past the curtain just in time to watch Loki take a hearty bite of summer roll.

“Anh, Mish Keaveh. Nish o' you 'oo 'oin 'ee,” Loki said to me as he chewed a mix of shrimp, greens, and rice paper.

“You clearly were not raised with table manners,” I said as I took the seat across from him.

He swallowed, “I beg your pardon, Miss Keavy. I thought that any vocalization would be better than silence. Have a summer roll.”

I grabbed one off the plate, dipped it in peanut sauce, and took a hesitant bite.   _Holy shit, this is the best summer roll ever._  I closed my eyes in bliss.  “I totally understand why this is your favorite phở place.  This is…delicious,” I said after swallowing, unable to search for a more appropriate word.

“You’ve not tried the phở yet, Nell.  Hold your praise until then, at least,” he said before dunking his own roll into the peanut sauce.

“Did you double dip?” I asked, suddenly preoccupied by the thought.

“As a rule, no.  But rules were meant to be broken, especially if I know the company won’t mind,” he saw my hesitation and continued, “We aren’t exchanging bodily fluids through the peanut sauce, Nell.  As I’ve said before, I like my partners willing.  That includes sharing food.  Now, which do you like?  I’m partial to the tripe and flank.”

“Um…meatballs?” I said nervously.

“Not even a little rare steak?  Tendons?  Chewy goodness?”

“I have issues with texture.  Also, the meatballs are always tasty.  Tripe gets a wee bit iffy from place to place.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, before barking out something in Vietnamese.  A waiter appeared, listened to Loki, and then asked a question.  Loki looked at me, and asked, “Do you want something to drink?  Tea, perhaps?”  He winked.

“I’ll have a beer and a glass of water, thank you,” I said to the waiter, who nodded in response and left the room.  Not a minute later he reappeared with a tray bearing drinks and a heaping plate of phở additives: basil, lime wedges, bean sprouts, thin sliced chilies.  The waiter set it all in front of us and departed.  I took a swig of Tsingtao and sat back in my chair, staring at Loki as he sipped at an indiscriminate liquid from a short glass.

“So…a business proposal?”

“What?  Oh, yes, that.  Do you enjoy your current work?” he asked, setting his drink back on the table.

“Not really.  I’d like to say that I’m just biding my time until I can scrape enough money together for grad school, but,” I paused, “I’ve been working there for over a year with no opportunity to move up the ranks.  And I’m decent at my job, but  it doesn’t make me happy.  People can be very rude.  Sometimes I really hate humans.”

“I feel the exact same about the humans.  They are a sniveling, thankless mass, caring little for the beauty around them.”

“Maybe I should go, if that’s how you really feel,” I drawled.

“You, Nell, are of course exempt from this judgment.  Which is why I need your help.  I made a slight mention earlier about the state of my collection.  I want you to organize it.  I’d pay you, of course,” he said, and slowly sipped his drink.

My heart skipped several beats.

“Well, will you or won’t you?  And stop opening and closing your mouth.  You look like a fish.”

I gathered my thoughts, “Isn’t there someone more qualified? I'm not smart enough. Did I mention that I still haven't gone to grad school? How could I have all the necessary knowledge? I couldn't -”

“Do stop berating yourself. You are clever. You have passion. The cloak likes you. It trusts you. As do I.”

The waiter reentered the room, carrying two huge, steaming bowls. He set them before us, and left as fast as he arrived. _Meatballs? Hells yes._ My stomach grumbled at the aromatic broth. Grabbing a flat-bottomed spoon, I dipped it eagerly into my bowl. I slurped, wary of its temperature. _Well, that's amazing. Now for the fixings._ Bean sprouts, basil, and two lime wedges made their way into the steaming broth, along with healthy doses of chili paste and Sriracha. I mixed it, using my chopsticks to bring a dense nest of noodles and bean sprouts to my mouth. _Shit. I'm ruined forever. Can't get phở anywhere else now. Am I okay with that? Only time will tell._ I inhaled my noodles, not caring about any improper noises my eating made; the taste was all that mattered.

“Enjoying yourself?” Loki asked.

I looked up from my bowl to see him sipping demurely from his own flat-bottomed spoon. I bit the noodles to end the bite and chewed my current mouthful, maintaining eye contact with Loki as I swallowed.

“This is the best fucking phở on the planet. So yes. I am,” I said, keeping my tone serious.

“I don't know about the planet, but in Washington it is. I take it you've never been to Vietnam?”

“Not all of us have seven-league boots,” I retorted before nibbling at a meatball. _Yep, definitely ruined._

He laughed and reached for the Sriracha. Upending it over his bowl, he drizzled enough into it to turn the broth from a soft brown to a rosy maroon.

“You weren't kidding about liking that stuff. Do you have tastebuds left?”

“My body is slightly more durable than a human's,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “And it takes more than this delightfully spiced liquid to injure it.” He picked out a spidery piece of tripe, and with elegance brought it to his lips.

“Only you could make eating tripe look so...delectable,” I said, and quickly took a long drink of my beer.

“Not difficult to do when it is,” he replied, “Are you going to remain distracted by the food, or are you going to answer my proposal?”

“I, um, well, Loki -”

Doo bee doo doo doo doooo…

Doo bee doo doo doo doooo…

“Goddammit, Dorcas Marie.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terms are established.

"Answer it," Loki said in a low voice.

"Why? I can't tell her anything she'll believe," I said as my phone went off again.

"Then give me the phone," he replied, holding out a hand for it. "I'm growing weary of interruptions by outside forces. So, the phone, please, Nell." He waved his fingers, beckoning.

"No way. Just let me try to talk to her first," I said, meeting his glare with one of my own. I answered the phone, "Hey…Marie."

"Nell Keavy! You are NOT ALLOWED to hang up this phone! Where are you? Are you okay? Say the word 'juxtapose' if you're being monitored and can't speak freely."

"Dorcas Marie. I am fine," I said, standing up to move our conversation to the hallway. Loki stood to follow me, crossing to my side. I pushed his chest gently, imploring him to wait, and went beyond the curtain. "Just calm down. I'm okay. And what's with the code words? We aren't secret agents. I'm in D.C., by the way."

"Nell, thank the lord. You are colossally stupid, sometimes, you know? What the flying fuck is wrong with you? You're never making it out of D.C. at a decent time tonight."

"I know," I sighed. "The day kinda got away from me. So, wait. Are you more angry with me for being in D.C. during rush hour, or for trying to fix my, ah, situation with the coat  _ without _  you?"

"It's an even mix of both. I just needed to know that you're okay. You've been blowing me off all day. Honestly, if you hadn't picked up the phone, I'd've resorted to, um, extreme measures in order to find you," Marie continued, "But...what's he like?"

"Uh, well, um, he's got, um, diverse interests. And he definitely knows how to rock a three-piece suit. He's been courteous and funny and sarcastic and demanding and...unexpectedly forthcoming."

"Jeez, Nell, keep it in your pants. Is he, ah, aesthetically pleasing?" She giggled.

"Erm...-" I tried to speak in a coherent manner when my phone was plucked from my hand by cool fingers.

"That's enough of that, I think," Loki said, putting the phone to his ear. "Ah. You must be Dorcas Marie," he purred. A pause. "Your name suits you well, stop complaining. Rest assured, your friend is in safe hands."

I heard Marie's tinny yelling from the small speaker. Loki pulled the phone away from his ear with a wince.

"She will return to you, in one perfect piece, I swear it," as he said this, his eyes found mine and he grinned. "I shall. Goodbye, Dorcas Marie." He ended the call.

"Phone?" I held out my hand, expectant. He passed it back to me with a chuckle. "You were about to answer my proposal before we were so rudely interrupted."

"I'll give you an answer. Just...let me finish my phở before it gets cold and my beer before it gets warm. Calm your tits," I said, flipping the curtain aside to get back to my dinner. _ I'm going to agree, but I should, without a doubt, set some conditions before I do. What do you think, Steve? _

Pressure played across my shoulders.

I looked at the cuffs to see if Steve had materialized any ideas.  _ Books? _  A squeeze, and a dollar sign superimposed itself over the small, embroidered stack. _ Money? For books? Oh! I could make him pay for grad school! I wonder if I'd be able to count this "organizational project" as independent research? _  I snorted.

My bowl of phở still steamed; I grabbed a meatball, and soon began shoveling the rest of the bowl's contents into my mouth.

"It's not a race, Nell," Loki said, putting another morsel of tripe to his lips. I shot a withering glare from above my glasses and deliberately slurped the noodles with sloshy abandon. He cocked an eyebrow, as if to ask for a response.

"What?" I snapped through a mouthful of noodles.

He started laughing. It was the kind of laughter that began as fast breathing, progressed to vigorous shaking, and finally burst forth as a series of low-pitched booms, each one building upon the next. I almost fell back into my chair from the force of it.

"You-," more laughing, "Your face! You look like that...that creature that humans are obsessed with...Kuh-something...Cthulhu! Yes! That's the one! Humans think it will rise from the sea! The things you beings invent! Ridiculous!" He wiped away a tear of mirth.

I finished my mouthful of noodles and vegetables before replying, "You think  _ we _ have crazy stories? What about the one with Thor and the goats? Or you and that horse?" I made a face of playful disgust.

"You mustn't believe everything you hear, Miss Keavy," he said, still vibrating with suppressed laughter.

I smiled, "Did you want an answer to your question, sir? Or will you ignore it in order to keep laughing at me?"

"Of course, Nell. Your answer, please. Though laughing at you does have its perks," he said, putting his chopsticks down on the table.

_ Just one more sip of liquid courage. _  I finished my beer, and said, "Okay, Loki. Okay. I'll help you organize your collection."

His eyes brightened as he leaned over the table, "Thank you for consenting. I -"

I held up one finger to cut him off. "I do have a few conditions. I will need them in writing. Without any hidden loopholes or legalese back doors for you to weasel your way through."

Loki steepled his fingers, "Name them."

"Um, okay. One: any original works in your collection with doubles in public collections will be returned in a timely manner. Two: any works with doubles in private collections will be retained until such a time as the doubles are in public ones, then apply the first condition. Three: works known as 'lost or destroyed' will be, ah, placed where they will be found by the proper authorities. Fourth, um, I mean, lastly: I require...compensation adequate to the demands of the, ah, job."

"Done," he said, his tone clipped, "I'll have the paperwork drawn up." He then shouted something in Vietnamese. "Are you finished?" He pointed to my bowl.

It was half empty, but my stomach could hold no more. "I guess. Can I get a to-go container?"

He blanched, "I don't think it would survive the trip."

I glanced at his bowl. The case of the mysterious missing tea had now become the case of the disappearing phở. The bowl was empty, save for a few sprigs of cilantro. _ How does he do that? _

"Hold on. Trip? Again? Where? What about my car?"

Steve started rubbing my shoulders.

"Your car will be fine. We'll leave in the morning. I'll give you an itinerary," he grinned.

The waiter appeared with the check and two peppermints, "Thank you! Have a good night!"

Loki tossed a large bill on the table and stood to leave. He held out a hand to help me from my chair, "Come on, Nell."

I took his hand, which was smooth and cool as he pulled me to my feet. I smelled his breath; it was brothy, with a hint of herbs and the underlying funk of organ meat.

"Your breath reeks."

"Good that we have these mints, then." The packaging crackled as he opened it, delicately placing the sugary swirl of red and white on his tongue. "Mmm, fresher already." He smirked and grabbed the mint between his teeth.

I took a large step backward, taking a deep breath. _ He really needs to stop that. Control yourself, Eleanor. _

Steve pressed against my lower back.

"Your breath doesn't smell of roses, either," Loki said as he proffered a mint, which I then snatched out of his palm.

"Look, we're even on keeping each other in the dark. So, full disclosure on travel plans, hm? Add that to my contract," I said, wrapping Steve around me before following Loki out of the restaurant and into the twilit streets of Washington, D.C.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Aren't we friends, now? Please, call me Loki."

To my surprise, Loki held the door for me as I exited. The sun had disappeared behind the skyline; streetlights were on, turning the air around us into a mixture of sodium orange and the deep purple of twilight. I sucked the peppermint into my cheek, my breath condensing in a cloud as I exhaled, “Spill it. Where are we going?” 

“But it was so fun to keep you guessing...” Loki said. He buttoned his jacket and continued, “I keep a small apartment not far from here.”

“Define 'not far.' Because this place,” I gestured back to the restaurant, “Was also 'not far.' Don't tell me it's a seven minute walk when it's really thirty.” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“You are no fun when you ask for specifics,” he pouted.

“How else would I get a straight answer out of you? And stop dodging the question,” I fired back.

“We'll be there before I finish this mint,” he said, and put the candy between his teeth again to show me its current state of disintegration.

“Fine,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

Loki offered me his arm, and I responded with a strong, side-eyed glare.

“I'm just trying to be polite. Companionable. Not run off without you. Or have you run off without me. As you said earlier, we are, ah, even, on undisclosed information. I would like to remain so on methods of travel as well. Unless you want to be walking alone in an unfamiliar city. In the dark. With only a cloak,” he said, clipping the last syllable.

“Aren't you forgetting that Steve is an _invisibility_ coat? I'd be fine,” I flapped a hand, trying to be nonchalant.

“I can't believe I'm saying this,” Loki muttered under his breath, “Will you please stop arguing so we can go? It's five minutes, at the most.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, scowling.

“Heh,” I laughed, keeping my voice soft. I walked a few paces down the street, scuffing the heels of my boots on uneven pavement. I turned back towards Loki, “Come on, don't get your panties in a twist.”

His gait turned liquid as he approached my proffered elbow, then he smoothly linked his arm through mine. I took a few cautious steps forward, which Loki matched easily.

“See? Isn't this much more pleasant than chasing after one another?” he breathed into my ear. “Though, if we continue at this rate, it  _ will _ take thirty minutes. Shall we walk a bit quicker?” He pulled me down the sidewalk without waiting for an answer; I somehow managed to stay on my feet, despite the buckling concrete.  _ Any faster and this will turn into a three-legged race. I wonder if they have those where he's from...  _ I let out a low chuckle as we crossed a street.

“What?” asked Loki, a hint of a grin creeping into his tone.

“Nothing, nothing,” I said. “So, are we almost to your, uh, place?”

“It's just another block over,” he replied, slowing his pace.

We were in an area of D.C. that I'd never visited; it was elegant without being opulent.  _ Definitely too expensive for students. But not quite nice enough for Congress-folk. So...lawyers, then? _ Steve gave my shoulders a squeeze.  _ Loki and the lawyers. Sounds like a bad band name or a mediocre sitcom. _ I laughed aloud.  _ Or both! Oh sweet Jesus, Nell, quit while you're ahead. _ I was still smiling to myself when we strolled to a stop.

“Here we are.”

Before us stood a massive old apartment building, all deep red brick and marble accents. Loki unlinked our arms to walk up the entry steps, taking them two at a time. I waited below, fidgeting with Steve's waist sash, overcome with a sudden case of nerves.  _ At what point is the line crossed? _ I shuddered involuntarily and let my smile fade.  _ Have I even established that there  _ _ **is** _ _ a line? _ Steve began rubbing tight circles in the small of my back.  _ Sometimes I forget that you're listening, Steve. _ A quick glance at the cuffs showed me a familiar pattern: arrows circling back in on themselves.  _ What? What am I supposed to remember? _

At that moment, Loki turned back to me, “Aren't you coming in? My mint is almost gone, and I do so dislike being wrong.”

_ I like my partners willing, Nell. _

_ Put up or shut up. Deep breath in. Out. _

I walked up the steps and through the open front door; Loki shut it behind me, then bolted ahead to a bank of elevators.

_ Ding! _

“What excellent timing,” he whispered, going inside and pressing the button for the eighth floor. I scurried in just as the doors closed. My hands were still fidgeting with the waist sash.

“I've not had visitors in a long while...I do hope the guest quarters are clean.”

“Guest? Quarters?” I asked. “I thought you said this place was small.”

He turned to meet my incredulous gaze with a mischievous, eye crinkling grin. “Did I? I must've meant a 'dwelling of adequate size and dimension.'” He winked.

_ Ding! _

We stepped off the elevator and Loki made a beeline for a doorway to the left. Lush carpet muffled my steps as I walked towards the now open door. I caught my bottom lip between my teeth as my peppermint dissolved; hesitancy stopped my feet mere inches from the threshold.

“I promise there are no dead bodies in here. You should know by now that I won't bite,” he smiled wider, “Not unless asked. So, do come inside.” 

I took another deep breath, hardened my expression into something I hoped was neutral, and entered his apartment.

_ It's so...clean. Like a really nice Ikea. _ Everything was sharp lines and cool colors; there was no noticeable dust. I could see through to the far end of the space, where the back wall was entirely made of glass. The view looked out over treetops, smaller buildings, and the moon peeking out from behind an inky cloud. Aside from its understated elegance, the apartment was quite normal.  _ The gang's all here: a fancy TV, nice couch in a vague shade of neutral, and - _

“Is that an Xbox?” I asked, breaking the short but heavy silence that had fallen. I walked over to the small shelf beside the TV. “I wouldn't've pegged you as the gaming type.” I peered at his selection of titles. “What's this one?” I pulled a blank case from its neighbors. “Classic Arcade? Did you get this bootleg?”

“Galaga can be very relaxing,” he replied, somewhat defensive.

“I'm just giving you shit,” I sighed, turning around. “I'm more of a Tet-”

Loki stood in the kitchen; he'd removed his suit jacket and rolled his shirtsleeves to his elbows, exposing well-muscled forearms that reminded me of the soft-seeming texture of fine porcelain.

_ Keep your shit together, Keavy. _ I gulped, “...tris gal, myself.”

He quirked up the corner of his mouth, “Would you care to take off the cloak?” He stepped around the bar and held out an immaculate arm. I quickly unfastened Steve and passed him to Loki.  _ Why are you feeling so warm, Nell? Hmm? _ I heard the soft click of a latch and saw Loki wrestling with a hanger in front of a small closet tucked inside the entryway.

_ Jesus-Christ-on-a-crutch, Nell. They're just arms. Very nice arms. With very nice muscles. Attached to a very nice torso. Topped with a very nice face. And very nice hair. _ I exhaled slowly, trying to ignore my increasing heartbeat.  _ You are about to establish a  **business** relationship with this guy. Keep your pants on. Also, let's not forget that you've known him for less than twenty four hours. You're an adult. Adults are responsible. Adults can keep it in their pants. _ I watched him lean into the closet, hanging Steve among his assumed cohorts.  _ Their very nice pants. Encasing their very nice ass. _

Loki closed the closet door with a click and a grimace.

“You should've let a professional take care of that,” I gestured at the space behind him.

“And have you undermine my abilities as a host? Never,” he smirked and walked back into the kitchen. “Have a seat, Nell. Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Um, sure. Why not?” I plopped down on the couch, setting my purse on the floor. A glass of red wine connected to ivory fingers materialized before me.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” Loki sat on the floor a few feet across from me. He sniffed the contents of his glass, then took a sip, closing his eyes to savor the mouthful.

I put my glass under my nose, mimicking his movements.  _ Smells like wine. Down the hatch, then.  _ I moved the glass to my mouth, tilting it to let a large amount pass my lips.  _ Tastes like wine. Very nice wine... _ I snorted into my glass.

“Is it not to your liking?” Loki half rose from his place on the floor, his arm outstretched.

“No. Yes. I like it. It's great, actually. Don't get up.”

“Are you feeling alright?”

“I'm fine. 'S just...remembering something funny. From a while ago,” I evaded.

“Would I find it humorous?”

“Maybe. But no, before you ask, I'm not explaining it. Too much effort,” I took another sip of wine.  _ This is delicious. _

“I suppose you are entitled to some secrets,” he replied, leaning back on one hand while bringing his glass in for a sip with the other. “Should I add that to your contract as well?” He let out a throaty chuckle.

“You sound like a tiger when you laugh like that,” I hiccuped.  _ How strong is this stuff? _

“Is that an insult or a compliment?” he said, and sipped at his wine.

“Whichever you prefer. What kind of wine is this? It's awesome,” I said, swirling my glass in an attempt to seem classy.

“It's a Carmenere. Local vintage, from the foothills west of this city.” Sip. Pause. Sip. 

“So...are we discussing business, then?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the contents of my glass.

“If you like. Though, I must confess, today has been...tumultuous. I'd be, um, amenable to tabling our discussion of any details of our arrangement until the morning. I thought we could, ah, use this evening to, um, relax our respective guards. Get to know each other a little...without a certain third party listening and offering, ah, unsolicited advice.”

“I take it Steve, uh, said something to you,” I snickered.

“Sometimes that cloak is more trouble than it's worth,” he replied.

“If that's the way you feel, then I'd be more than happy to take it off you hands,” I quipped, drinking my wine.

“You try spending hundreds of years with it and see how you get along, then,” he laughed, petulant, then realizing what he'd said, tried to backtrack, “Oh, I'm sorry. That was rude of me. I don't spend extended periods of time around humans. I forget...that you are like mayflies,” he smiled grimly. “Forgive my insensitivity?”

“Honestly, if I  _ was _ around for hundreds of years, it'd probably get boring. I don't mind being a mayfly...just gotta make sure to cram as much as I can into the time I've got.”

Loki still looked rather sheepish.

“If we're going to be friends, we can't treat each other with kid gloves. So, yes, you are forgiven. Weirdo,” I muttered.

His face melted into an easy smile, “Excellent. Now that's out of the way...more wine?”

I was surprised to find my glass nearing empty. “Well, if you're offering...” I held it out, and Loki stood to take it; I heard a joint pop. “Could I get some water, too?”

“Yes, oh demanding mayfly-guest of mine,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

_ You're getting a bit tipsy, Nell. Watch yourself. Don't give him any reason to renege on your deal. You've not signed anything. _ A pale, long fingered hand appeared in front of my nose, grasping a glass of wine by its bowl. “Thank you, oh generous host,” I said, taking the glass from him with a giggle.  _ Good Christ, you aren't twelve... _ He resumed his seat on the floor, laughing softly.

“...Where's my water?”

“By your left foot. Don't knock it over.”

I rolled my eyes.

“So...how did you and, ah, Dorcas Marie meet?”

“Hm, oh...it's kind of funny, actually,” I paused, “It was at jury duty. Neither of us wanted to be there, but who does, really, and we started laughing at each others' jokes. Met for coffee a few times afterward. Six months later, we were roommates. It's been domestic bliss ever since.” I punctuated my speech with a long pull of wine. “We're a goddamn sitcom.”

“Don't sell yourselves short. From the little I've experienced of you both, you're a good deal more entertaining,” Loki said as he stood and walked over to the Xbox, turning it on and grabbing two controllers. “How are your skills at Street Fighter Two?”

“...Um...I'm decent. If I'm Chun Li.”

“Here, then,” he passed a controller to me. “I know of no better way to become acquainted than playing a game.”

The TV screen came to life, and the pixelated logo for Street Fighter Two blasted across it.

“Here are the terms: win a match, ask a question. Lose, and answer it with as little stretching of the truth as possible. Does that seem fair?” He sat on the opposite end of the couch, and I turned to hold his gaze.

“I agree to your terms, oh gracious host,” I laughed, holding out my hand to be shaken. He narrowed his eyes playfully and gripped my hand with a cool, firm touch.

“Aren't we friends, now? Please, call me Loki,” his grin widened, showcasing near-perfect teeth. “I hope you are prepared to divulge your life story.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Don't get ahead of yourself, ah, Loki. We've not started playing yet. You have no idea what I'm capable of,” I dropped his hand and let my voice get serious. We selected our characters, then- 

_ Ready... _

_ Fight! _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a few liberties with the XBox, and figured that Loki has a bootleg copy of the older, more simple arcade games. I do not know if there is such a collection as "Classic Arcade." Or if the XBox can be an emulator. Take it with a grain of salt.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All dialogue! All the time! Classic video games! Questions, answered! Maybe not so many of those, b/c someone can't hold her liquor.

Fight One: Chun Li vs. Blanka 

 

"Blanka? Really?"

"Yes, really. He's got a tragic back-story; he's misunderstood. What's not to like?"

"I think you identify with him. It's beautifully tragic."

"I'll have you know that Blanka is a very sensitive, electric, Brazilian man. He just wants to find his mother."

"Okay...while you're having that little moment with yourself, have a faceful of lighting kick. Bam! Ha! I win!"

"Oh, you do fight dirty, Nell. Distracting me with sympathy. Tsk. But I would've liked to assume you had actual skill at this game. Not just button pressing."

"Hey, it takes extreme control and discipline to successfully spam a button like that. Therefore, skill."

"What was it you said earlier...'poh-tay-toe, poh-tah-toe?' Ask your question."

"Ooh, I almost forgot we were doing that. I've gotta think of a good one."

"I'm quaking with anticipation."

"Pssh. You are cool as a motherfucking cucumber."

"Language, Nell."

"OH! I've got it! What is your favorite way to insult people? Your preferred method of verbal evisceration?"

"I suppose a spell to eviscerate those who annoy me doesn't count?"

"Hic. Shit. Um, yes...technically. But, I will clarify my question by asking you to not say whatever that is out loud. Because you are, hic, giving me this look right now, and I really enjoy having my insides, um, inside. At all times. Urp."

"Fine. Spoilsport."

"What would you call, ah, Thor, if he took your last, erm, beer?"

"A thundering, drunken oaf."

"That's nice. Descriptive. Not evisceration. Your quick reply indicates that you've used this particular epith...epish...epath...phrase before."

"Very astute of you. Shall we continue?"

 

Fight Two: Chun Li vs. Zangief 

 

"Shit. Let go of me! Argh, getupgetupgetup! Why aren't you kicking? Dammit Chun Li."

"And now I'm crushing your skull with my legs. Aha! Victory!"

"How are you so good with Zangief? He's so slow. I should've won. Hic."

"Because I have actual skill. But it is  _my_  turn to ask a question, yes? I must think of a good one, especially after that, um, very deep query you posed to me."

"Hic. Welp, I'm pretty much an open book."

"Becoming even more so, by the sound of it."

"Hey. I'm an  _adult_ , Loki. I can keep it together. Urp."

"Very nice, Nell."

"HAHAHAHAHA! Hic. M'fine. Swear."

"Aha! What have you been laughing to yourself about since we arrived here?"

"Oh. That. Nothing that's worth you knowing about."

"I remind you that you did agree to the terms..."

"...Ugh. Fine. Fine. I've been laughing because I can't control my brain. It keeps going to the same places. And that makes me feel like a twelve year old."

"Are you being truthful, Nell?"

"That was truthful! Our terms were for as little  _stretching of the truth_  as possible. Nothing was said as to how elaborate the answer had to be. I am not saying anything else about it. My lips are zipped. Zzzzzipppped."

"Prepare to answer my much more specific question next time."

"Hmpf. Hic."

 

Fight Three: Chun Li vs. Vega 

 

"Get your Wolverine claws out of my boobs. Ha!"

"What is it with you and kicking? Do you know how to do anything else with that character?"

"Hey, look. We are kicking and jumping at the same time! IT'S A DANCE PARTY! Jump up, jump up and jump around!"

"Hold still!"

"Nope. Dance party don't stop for no one. In fact, let me bring my dancing feet to your face. Annnd...K.O.ed. Question time, Loki."

"Very well. Ask away."

"Ooh, balls, this is hard. My brain doesn't want to work right now."

"What does your brain want to be doing, then?"

"Hey...no wheedling illegal answers outta me. Lips are zipped. Remember? Urp. Where was I? Oh, questions. Quessssstionnnnssss. I've got two..."

"Ask them. I'm feeling rather generous this evening."

"Ooooookay. One: where is your bathroom? And two-"

"Down that corridor, second left. Your other question can wait."

"Great. Thanks. I have to pee like a race horse."

"Ah."

"Sorry, sorry. Hic. TMI."

"Take your time."

"I can maybe hold it; this couch is really comfy. Nope. Nope. Gotta go. Gettin' up...Whoa, headrush. Need a hot sec."

"Let me take that from you. Don't drop it."

"Wouldn't break if I did. This carpet is way plush. How're you not drunk right now?"

"It takes more than three glasses of anything for me to, ah, lose my wits to alcohol. I, uh, may have miscalculated the threshold of your sobriety."

"Damn straight you did. I just need the room to shtop spinning for a minute. And pee. Gotta pee. Probs gonna die if I don't."

"I'll not have you breaking anything on your way to the toilet. Come on."

"Jesus. Escorts allllll around. You can be such a fucking gentleman. Lead on."

"Watch your left foot..."

"Fuckity fuck that's cold. M'sorry. Making a mess."

"It's just water. Calm down."

"You try staying calm with...whilsh...while being stupidly drunk in front of stupidly hot people. Shitshitshit. Dinna mean to say that. Werps. Hic. I'm a mess."

"You're fine, Nell. Here's the bathroom. If you aren't out of there in five minutes, I'm coming in after you."

"Urp. Nope. L'be fine. Heroics are not necessary."

"Who's having personal space issues, now, hm? I thought you needed to use the facilities?"

"Balls. Yes. Thank you for reminding me. Do not come in here. Not allowed."

"Barring emergency, I'll remain outside the door. So. You never did ask your second question."

"DON'T TALK TO ME WHILE I'M PEEING IT'S GROSS. And rude. And weird."

"You didn't have to respond."

"..."

"Nell?"

"What? What? I'm not dead. See?"

"Why is your face wet?"

"Needed a drink of water. No cups."

"You are nothing if not enterprising. Let's get you to bed."

"But Street Fighter..."

"It will wait. Besides, when we set proper terms tomorrow, I'd prefer you to be fully present. Not in mental and physical agony."

"You're such a fucking softy."

"Shh. Don't tell anyone."

"Hee...M'lips are zipped. Our secret. Ooh, this is comfy. Boots off. Bedtime."

"Just lay down, I'll get them."

"No makin' fun of m'socks."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Sleeptime now...Wait! Are we still on for art...stuff?"

"Of course. I doubt the cloak will let me renege, even if I truly desired to do so."

"But you still want me...to do it?"

"More than you know."

"...hrnk..."

"...Did you fall asleep on me? Heh. Sleep, Nell Keavy, and dream. I will still be here when you wake."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My intel for Street Fighter II is a little hazy, but I think you get the basic ideas behind each character mentioned.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams, hangovers, bacon. And...cuddles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: trippy dreams, worms, bacon as necessity for life

Cool lips pressed to my forehead as I drifted to sleep: a chaste goodnight kiss.

_Sleep, Nell Keavy, and dream._

 

_Dream._

 

_Dream.._

 

_Dream..._

 

A formica dining table, its minty green surface speckled black and pink and sparkle. No chairs but mine. A mug of steaming liquid in front of me. It steamed and steamed and steamed, until the table was covered in fog.

 

_I thought you liked tea, Nell._

_No, no, this isn't tea. It's steaming too much._

 

The fog transformed into translucent worms, which writhed out of the mug, crawling across the formica towards me.

_No, don't. I'm not hungry._

 

The worms disappeared. Everything disappeared. Warmth. Heat everywhere. Darkness. Safety.

 

I was surrounded by hair. It was long and red-gold and wavy and mine. I wrapped my hair around myself and stepped out of the sea.

_See? I told you I needed you. Who else could be you? Come._

 

People everywhere. Not people. Bodies of men and heads of birds. Snakes with human faces. Sharp fingers. Not fingers. Reaching. Not for me. Never for me.

_Come...come..._

 

My vision fractured into a thousand facets; I saw every angle of a staircase, of a woman. Me.

A mirror. Infinite mirrors. Falling, slow and unafraid. I am alone.

_I've had more fun with you today than in the past decade..._

 

Sliding down curtains, deep red, velvety. The back of a young man's head, his hair long and dark.

_I know you..._

_I was lost. You found me. Find me again._

 

Black wool and green thread. My hands are stitches. Flat but glimmering. Surrounded by coats, visible and not; I feel them on my skin. My skin is wool. I am covered by and covering a cool body. I am there, everywhere, everywhen. I know thoughts and wills and wants. Sadness. Anger. Loneliness. Tiny iota of hope. Buried. I can only feel and watch and wait.

 

Dim light. Smell of bacon. The pull of bedding against denim-clad legs.

 

_Dream...._

I am outside, but not outside. I am falling into blackness. No sound. I wrap around myself.

 

_No, no, I'm nothing. I'm not anything. Not me. Not me. You can't love a nothing, a no one._

_Let me try._

_~~~_

I smelled bacon. My eyes opened to watery light seeping through closed curtains.  _No, don't wanna wake up. This bed is ultra comfy._  I rubbed my eyes.  _Where're my glasses?_  The room's details lacked all definition: a combination of low light and myopia. I groped at the nightstand; my hand found the flat profile of a plastic alarm clock.  _7? AM? That's how you know you had too much to drink last night, Keavy._  I yawned.  _Yum...Alcohol induced morning breath, my favorite. Though that strange booze-dream is a close second._  I sat up, wrapping the bed's fluffy duvet around my shoulders.  _That's gotta be the door._  I stumbled towards a dark, vaguely door-shaped rectangle. As I stepped into the hallway, the smell of bacon became almost hypnotic.  _Glasses first, bacon second._

I felt my way to the bathroom in a mixture of guesses and hazy recollections, the duvet trailing behind me like a cape. Flicking the light switch, I squinted at the countertop. No dark smudges marred its creamy surface; my glasses weren't here.  _Where the fuck did my glasses go? Need to see. Vision is important._

The hall carpeting squished comfortably beneath my socked feet. I was still in my clothes from yesterday, minus Steve; the neck of my shirt clung to the edge of my shoulder. I sensed that the seams of my jeans were imprinted down the length of my legs, while the front pockets twisted themselves into my groin.  _Note to self: don't sleep in your clothes. Especially your jeans. This isn't college. You are an adult, remember?_  I put a hand to my head, only to find that my braid had disintegrated and my hair tie likely lost to the tumult of my sheets.  _Dammit._

_Glasses. Bacon._

"Loki?" I yawned as I entered the living room. "Are you awake? Do you see my glasses anywhere?" My voice sounded like gravel and sandpaper.

Silence.

I walked over to the end of the sofa where I'd left my purse, digging inside for my phone.  _Great: three missed calls, two missed texts, and an email. I told you I was fine, Marie. I'll deal with you later._  I tossed the phone to the couch, scowling.

My nose twitched and my stomach growled.  _Okay, okay. Bacon, then glasses._

A plate shaped blur occupied the nearest corner of the bar: the source of the mouthwatering, heavenly aroma. I grabbed a slice of bacon and bit off a third in a crunchy, greasy, salty mouthful.  _How do vegetarians even...? Priorities, Nell._

My stomach appeased for the moment, I continued to cast about for my glasses.  _Could that be them on the other end of the bar? Yes! Vision!_  I put them on, taking in the newly sharpened details of Loki's apartment. At the far end of the main room, a previously unnoticed door stood ajar. My feet skimmed over the sun-dappled carpet as I crossed the space; the duvet dragged along with a purr.

I lightly knocked on the door, the soft contact pushing it further open. "Loki," I said in my best (but unintentional) imitation of Tom Waits, "Are you awake? There's bacon..." I poked my head into the darkened space beyond the door.

"I know there's bacon. I made the bacon. For you to eat and not bother me. Go eat bacon," said Loki in a voice several octaves lower than the previous day's baritone.

"I had a piece, thanks," I said, ignoring his dismissal. My eyes adjusted to the gloom; the largest bed I'd ever seen jutted from the far wall, and a murky plushness covered the wall to my right.  _Those must be some heavy duty blackout curtains._  I inched my way into his bedroom.

Loki sprawled across the bed, naked to the navel.

_It is a very nice torso. Hell, if I wanted to make the effort, I could probably use his abs to wash my clothes._  I let out a giggle.

"Staring is rude. Staring and laughing more so. Laugh outside or be quiet in here. Pick one," Loki said, without looking up to meet my heavy gaze.

I held my breath to stifle further outbursts, and took small steps to the edge of his giant bed. I sat facing the curtains, wrapping my duvet ever tighter around myself, and exhaled.

"I had a strange dream," I whispered.

"Dreams are always strange," he replied. I felt the mattress shift as he rolled towards me.

"What was in that wine?" I asked, more to myself than him.

"Grapes. Alcohol. Sediments," he said, deadpan.

"Whatever it was, it made me trip balls," I yawned.

"I'm not going to pretend that I know what that means. Also, I distinctly remember saying 'be quiet if you want to stay in here,'" Loki grumbled.

I sighed, lying down next to him as I cocooned further into my duvet.

"You've lain on my hand."

"I know."

"You're so warm."

"...Grab another blanket if you're cold."

"Hush. Quiet. Please."

Loki's fingers curled around the back of my neck, cool and feather-light. I closed my eyes and dozed.

~~~

I woke for the second time, not to the smell of bacon, but to the feel of a body pressed to mine. Loki's fingers stroked my neck from hairline to shoulder. His nose was buried somewhere in my hair; I felt each steady exhale against my scalp. My glasses had, once again, escaped the confines of my face.

"Loki, where're my glasses?"

"I put them on the nightstand."

"...Thanks...the bacon was good."

"You are quite welcome. Go back to sleep."

His fingers still traced their way back and forth along my neck. His other arm was draped over my waist; my duvet a thin layer between us.

I slept, and did not dream.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're thinking: Two updates in less than a week, haikant, are you *gasp* starting a more strenuous writing schedule?!  
> Nope. Nope. But it's my birthday, and in hobbity tradition, I'm giving a gift instead of getting one. Please do enjoy!

The third time I awoke, it was abrupt. My eyes snapped open, taking in the dark, indistinct blur of the bedroom ceiling. I sat up, legs still confined by the duvet.

I was alone.

A glance at the nightstand confirmed that Loki had placed my glasses there at some point between my early arrival and subsequent nap. I put them on, and a wall clock snapped into sharp relief. _11:45? You haven't slept that late since...since you and Marie had that Wine and Weirdness Movie Night._ I shuddered, then grinned. _What did we end up watching? Donnie Darko, Labyrinth, and...Mulholland Drive? Definitely got too drunk to remember the plot of Mulholland Drive. Or maybe that was just the David Lynch effect?_

I stood, stretching and shedding my duvet. _Cold!_ I walked towards the wall of curtains, intending to let in some light. _Probably easier than looking for the light switch_. I snorted. The curtain was heavy, the hem obviously weighted; it swayed considerably as I grabbed it with two hands. The fabric was something like velvet, but softer. I wrenched it open, admitting a long bar of daylight into Loki's room. The sky was overcast, leaking fat drops of rain that jostled the leaves of a large holly tree in the apartment building's expansive courtyard.

I wrapped my arms around myself in an attempt to retain warmth. My breath fogged the window, and I drew a squiggly line in the condensation before it disappeared. I caught myself staring at my washed out reflection in the rain-spattered window. My hair was a wavy mess; a faint pillow crease followed the line of my left cheekbone. It was my eyes, though, that held my attention. The rims of my eyelids were slightly rosy, and I could just see a few faded lines of salt that could only be evidence of tears.

_I cried in my sleep?_

I took a step back from my reflection, turning away from the morning's soft light to the disguising murk of the room. I didn't want to leave the darkness; I didn't want to risk Loki seeing my face.

_Okay, okay, big bedroom, must be the master...A place this swanky has to have a master bathroom._ I skirted the bed and opened one of the two doors on the far wall of the bedroom. My nose was hit with the strong scent of cedar, with a low undercurrent of clean wool. _Closet. Nice. I'll snoop later. So that means that you must be the bathroom._ I sidestepped to the left. _Hmmm, no handle...So, it slides?_ I pushed it to the right, where it slid into the door frame with a low rumble.

Warm lights brightened as I walked inside, my sock feet sliding on the tile. _Nope, not tile. Marble. I have walked into a marble fantasy. Oh, Nell, this is what dreams are made of._ In contrast to the brightness of the rest of the apartment, Loki's bathroom was cozily dark. Deep green marble lined the walls and the floor; the fixtures were matte brass. A huge, walk-in shower occupied the left wall, opposite a single sink set into an inky black counter-top. _We are going to get much, much better acquainted at some point, my friend._ I opened a mahogany cabinet next to the sink, hoping to find a wash cloth or a towel. _White? I'd've figured him for matching linens. Is that toothpaste? Thank the lord for small favors._ I turned the knob for hot water and put a small dab of toothpaste on my finger. _No more stank breath._ I rinsed my mouth with the warming water, and spit into the sink.

Steam from the running water clouded the mirror above the sink, but didn't reveal any cryptic messages to frighten me. I smiled tightly and washed away all evidence of last night's emotions. After wringing out the wash cloth and hanging it, I felt sufficient to face the day.

I stared at the shower again, catching sight of not one, not two, but seven nozzles: three on each marble wall and a large rain-shower head attached to the ceiling. _I could forgo all future baths if it meant getting to use this all the time. Holy. Shit._

“If you're done gawking, I've made some lunch.”

“JESUSFUCKINGCHRIST! You scared me!” I jumped, then turned to face Loki, who leaned against the bathroom's door frame.

He smiled as if suppressing a great deal of laughter, and replied, “Well, aren't you hungry?” He cocked an eyebrow.

I narrowed my eyes to glare at him. He was dressed to lounge, in charcoal gray drawstring pants that hung low on his hips and a short-sleeved, black v-neck. Both garments looked soft and well worn.

“Are we going to talk about it?” I asked, trying to not sound accusatory.

“About? Lunch? I've made soup...” he halfheartedly jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

“About...you know...whathappenedthismorning,” I babbled.

His smile shifted into something more pensive, “You needed...comfort.  Come.”

My breath caught in my throat. “What?” I whispered, half remembering.

“I may be able to explain...something...to you. I can't promise you'll like it,” he muttered, spinning into the bedroom. I shared an annoyed shrug with my reflection and followed him.

He stood in the rectangle of rainy daylight, its soft touch highlighting the proud lines of his face. I sat back down on the bed, fingers finding the duvet's edges, ready to shield myself if necessary.

Loki inhaled deeply, then spoke:

“Magical objects can be very powerful. Very addictive. The more they are used, the more you _want_ to use them. Care is needed, and taken. Most objects are used sparingly, on an as needed basis. There are, of course, exceptions for some objects, my invisibility cloak being one of them. We've worked together for a very, very long time. I suspect that, because of this lengthy association, it's been infused with not only my magic, but some of my own true self as well. And you, having worn it, having had strong emotions while wearing it, may have exchanged some of your own self for the others it contains. Unwittingly, of course.”

He fidgeted with the drawstring of his pants.

“My dream last night...what was it?”

“Tell me.”

“It started...randomly. But then, I was falling...walking...moving through paintings. Like I was in them. A voice, a man's voice urging me on. Then...I was...Steve? Then I wasn't Steve. I was so sad. So alone. I fell. It felt...felt like no one had ever loved me, would ever love me. Like I wished I didn't exist,” I said, my voice breaking. A hot tear escaped my eye and rolled down my face. “Did you dream too?”

His eyes darted to mine, then flicked away. “Yes. I did. But I always do, and dreams do not frighten me. No matter their contents,” he said, dropping his gaze to his hands as they continued fiddling with the drawstring.

“Is it possible...that my dream...was memories? At least partly...your memories?” I said, my voice cracking.

“Yes,” Loki whispered hoarsely. “Yes. Some were memories. I'm sorry. No one should have to experience them. They're mine. They're private and I wish you hadn't seen them,” he said, his tone turning steely.

“But I did. I can't unsee them. Or unfeel them,” I said, my voice quiet.

“There might be a way for you to forget. A spell...” he said, looking thoughtful.

“I don't want to forget,” I growled, my head snapping up as my hands clutched the duvet. “Because you...because everyone should know that they are loved, that they are capable of love, they deserve love.” I stood and walked over to stand in front of him, my fists clenched. I felt another tear run down my face as I turned my eyes to meet his, which gleamed like beryls. _Put up or shut up, Nell._

I reached a hand up to cup his jaw, and said, “Everyone deserves to exist, Loki. Even mayflies.” I smiled, quickly standing on the tips of my toes to kiss the side of his face not occupied by my hand. He turned his face just enough, so instead of a friendly, reassuring kiss on the cheek, our mouths met.  My eyes closed reflexively as his mouth parted; he sucked lightly at my bottom lip. His mouth was cool where mine was warm as I returned the kiss, not escalating it: an equal exchange. I felt the brush of a thumb on my cheek, wiping my tear and caressing the side of my face. I broke the kiss, leaning into his hand.

“So, what kind of soup did you make?” I asked, opening my eyes.

“Hah. Very nice, Nell. Good. Change the subject,” he laughed, pulling away from me. He walked towards the bedroom door and held out a hand, “Come.”

I slipped a warm hand into his cooler one and followed him to the kitchen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be resuming my very irregular (every 2 weeks? Sure, sure, let's try for that) schedule after this.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: fur coats, sexual frustration, angst

“Is it always this cold in here?” I asked, pulling my hand from his to rub my arms, craving what little warmth the friction brought. “I'm grabbing Steve.” I darted over to the coat closet and threw open the door.

“That might not be the best idea...” Loki drawled from the kitchen.

“Steve's a part of this crazy plan; he deserves to be in on it,” I replied as I thumbed through the copious number of coats, searching for Steve. _Ooh, fur trim, very nice, don't tell PETA._ I giggled. _It's time to find a new phrase, Nell._ My hands skimmed over the shoulder of one black coat, warmer than the others. _Steve?_ I trailed a hand down its arm, where I saw green embroidery slinking its way towards my fingers like a cat. _Hello to you, too._ I pulled Steve off the hanger and smoothly fitted my arms through the sleeves. Instead of feeling heavy, Steve's weight was comforting; I felt my whole body being squeezed gently. _Aw, Steve, did you miss me?_ Tiny starbursts peppered the cuffs.

I sauntered into the kitchen, belting Steve around my waist. Loki stood before the stove, stirring a pot that smelled suspiciously similar to chicken soup. He stiffened, turning to face me as I leaned a hip against the counter-top.

“Why is wearing Steve such a bad idea?” I asked, folding my arms.

He mirrored my pose, replying, “Do I really need to repeat myself?” He extended a hand.

“I know, I know. 'It's a cloak, not a Steve,'” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Magic is addictive, Nell. Dangerous. Please?” he beckoned with his hand, stoutly ignoring my attempt at a joke.

“Ugh, fine,” I pulled at the sash. _Come on, Steve. We'll play later, promise._ Steve shrugged. _Stop being so petulant._ He slipped off my shoulders, and I hauled him in front of me, passing him into Loki's outstretched hand.

“Thank you,” he said, meeting my glare, then flicking his eyes at Steve's woolly form. “May I?”

“I'm giving him to you, aren't I?” I snapped.

He lifted Steve, spinning the garment elegantly to slide his arm down a waiting sleeve.

Or at least, that looked like what he'd meant to do.

“Really? You are, in fact, being infantile.” Loki's arm was stuck to the elbow, the shoulder seam tight around his joint. “Do you want to go back in the closet?” A gap appeared between his arm and the silky lining. “I'm putting you on the chair. That's what you get for being obstinate.” He removed his arm and strode past me to drape Steve over a chair at the dining table.

I looked hard at Loki as he reentered the kitchen, my eyebrows raised in unasked query and my lips pursed with restraint.

“You've left quite the impression,” he said as he bustled around the tidy space, ladling steaming soup into a bowl, passing it to me along with a spoon. The bowl warmed my chilled hands as I bent my nose to better inhale the aroma wafting from it. _Lemon, dill..._ I gave the soup a stir. _Orzo? Fancy._ I glanced back up to Loki, who cradled a steaming bowl to his chest. He sipped cautiously from his spoon.

“On you? Or on Steve?” I asked casually.

“I'd've thought your effect on me was more apparent. Further convincing must be needed,” he purred, pausing to take another mouthful of soup, “Giving the cloak a name seems to have gone to its, ah, metaphorical, head.”

“You could've named him ages ago and avoided this whole, um, situation,” I replied, and slurped my soup.

“True. But it never occurred to me. So I must suffer the consequences of my actions. Or inactions, rather,” he mused.

“I know you're having fun. Don't pretend,” I tapped the side of my nose with the handle of my spoon. “Do you have any crackers?”

Loki reached a hand behind his back and pulled out a small box of saltines.

“Thanks,” I said, setting my bowl on the counter in order to better grab the box from him. I tossed a few into the remnants of my soup, breaking them apart to better absorb the bright tasting broth. I took a mushy bite as I resumed my stance against the counter-top. “So,” I said between mouthfuls, “Are you drawing up a contract? Or do I have to wait three to five business days?”

“It should arrive in short order,” Loki said, keeping his eyes on his food.

“Good. The sooner it gets here, then sooner I can send it back for revisions,” I quipped.

“If needs must,” he retorted, finishing his soup. “More?”

“I'm fine, thanks. I don't completely trust you with consumables after you plied me with wine last night,” I said with a wink.

“I made you bacon this morning. You're in perfect health,” he said, defensive. “Also, even by the standards of this realm, you have a pityingly low tolerance for alcohol. Gods help whoever tries to give you decent whiskey. It would not end well, for you or the spirits.”

“Good Christ, I was joking. There was a wink, which you would've noticed if you would look me in the face-”

A light knock at the door sent Loki scurrying from the kitchen. “That will be the contract,” he said as he passed me. I heard whispers and the rustle of papers being shuffled from one hand to another.

“I'm still cold,” I half shouted in the direction of the front door. “I'm grabbing my duvet.”

“Hm? Yes. Do,” he mumbled as he closed the door and slowly paced to the living room, his eyes glued to the papers gripped in one hand, while the other absentmindedly traced his upper lip.

I ducked past him and into the bedroom. My rumpled duvet lay as I'd left it, half curled around a non-existent body, with the rest spilling off the bed to puddle on the floor. I sat, letting the duvet reconfigure itself around me. _You kissed Loki. That did happen. You were right over there. And it appears that Loki won the race for making it awkward. But you can be the adult, Nell. Be business-like. Be the opposite of Marie._ I smiled. _Marie would exploit whichever connections necessary if it meant getting her desired partner into an intimate situation._

_It was a nice kiss._

_Very nice._

_Stop it, Nell. Stop. It._

I crossed my legs, trying to relieve to growing ache between them. My thighs tightened. _What would've happened if you had pushed him for more?_ I pressed my legs together, my hands clenching at the duvet, its cloud-like density sadly apparent as I sought something, anything, to squeeze out my frustration. I pulled it taut, stretching the feather-filled blanket across the small of my back.

_Stop being such a horny teenager. Get out there and talk business. Deep breath in. And out._

Standing, I wrapped myself in my makeshift toga and shuffled to the living room.

Loki was still pacing, slow and purposeful, in front of the windows.

“No. No! This won't do,” he griped, obviously frustrated.

“Can I take a look?” I asked, stretching out a hand.

“You may not. I am unsatisfied with the language in paragraphs two, three, and eight. Those, at least, must be completely rewritten. I am _surrounded_ by RANK _AMATEURS!_ ” he shouted, and flung the pages at the window, where they splashed wildly before falling to the floor.

“Well, you know what they say-”

Loki cut me off, “Oh please, Nell, I'm not in the mood for more inane colloquialisms.” He turned to face the window, hands squeezed into tight fists. 

“Fucking hell, Loki. It's a first draft,” I withdrew into the scant protection of my duvet, then, before I could stop myself, “No wonder you feel lonely all the time. Yelling at anyone who tries to, I don't know, help out. Not the most endearing thing. It's a wonder Steve's stayed this long! Maybe that's why he left you!” I was breathing in gasps. “I think you like it. Poor Loki, no one understands him. Anyone who tries gets pushed away. So he'll just stay mad at the universe until someone magically understands his pain, without him actually having to talk about it. God forbid anyone else try to empathize!” I shed the duvet and stood square to his back, my hands on my hips. “Newsflash! I _can_ empathize with you! Because, as you are so fond of reminding me, Steve is magical! Which led to an extreme episode of Magic-Psychic-Dreamtime, starring Loki's repressed memories, with a heaping side of what-the-actual-fuck! So don't fucking tell me to shut up. Don't push me away when I offer to help. I am _not_ reinforcing your cycle of distance and distrust merely because it makes you uncomfortable! Just!” I flung the words, “Let. Me. Be. Your. Friend. Because it is clear that you haven't had one in a while.” I let out the rest of my breath. “One that can talk, anyway.”

Loki's shoulders rose up and down; he was breathing hard. Then he slowly bent to gather the scattered pages and I resolutely kept my gaze away from his form.

“Here,” he said, thrusting the disorganized pile at me.

“Thank you,” I replied, tugging them from his long-fingered grasp and retreating to the couch. As I sat, I felt the hard rectangle of my phone wedge itself between my thigh and the cushion. _Marie. Shit._ I opened my text inbox:

**How was dinner? He's hot right? Has a hot voice anyways. Deets plz.**

**If you arent home 2nite i'm assuming ur getting laid.**

I felt my mouth twist as I typed a reply:

**Am fine. Home later.**

_Send._

_That's weird. A voicemail. From Marie. Does not bode well._

I stole a glance at Loki, who'd crossed his arms in front of his chest and was staring blankly at his pale reflection in the glass.

I dialed my voicemail:

“Nellenor Keavy, if you are not home by tomorrow evening, I will assume the worst and release the hounds to find you. So. Have fun, be safe, don't do anything I wouldn't...Love ya, bye.”

_That text should be fine, then._

I picked up the papers, my contract, from my lap and shook them into a level stack.

_I, the party of the first part, do so declare these terms of agreement to be fully binding until such a time as the terms are breached or the contract fulfilled. Any breach of terms by either individual will render all parts of the contract null and void from the time of the breach. All previous actions under contract will be upheld. The party of the second part will be fully compensated for all services outlined herein, regardless of **any** breach of contract._

“This seems legit,” I said as I flipped through the pages, glancing at bold text and several footnotes.

“I don't like the phrasing 'party of the first part;' it sounds like I'm attending some type of gathering,” he said as he turned towards me, his gaze at the floor.

“Also, ah, the compensation mentioned...”

“Keep reading.”

“'The party of the second part' blah blah blah...'compensation to be determined at a future time...not to be less than...' wow that is a big number...'or equal to one deep desire'? What does that even mean?” I looked at him from underneath furrowed eyebrows.

“It depends. You may choose to be compensated monetarily, and that sum is just a guess for right now, or by another method entirely determined by your worth. I care not which,” he said, nonchalantly rubbing the base of his nose and still not meeting my gaze.

“Who would be 'determining my worth'? You?” My gaze turned skeptic. 

“An impartial third party could be found, if you so desired,” he replied.

“Would you need to know my method of compensation now?” I asked.

“Preferably. Though, I suppose a timetable of up to, say, thirty days, could be arranged. If you wanted,” he said, finally meeting my eyes from beneath dark lashes.

I held his stare. “Do it. Everything else seems fine. But I will want to look over the final version before I sign.”

“I'd expect nothing less, Miss Keavy,” he said, starting to fiddle with the drawstring of his lounge pants.

“When will it be ready?” I asked crisply.

“My, ah, associate can have it prepared by this evening. Earlier, if the correct pressure is applied,” he said.

“Have them take their time,” I said as I stood to pass the contract back to Loki, breaking our eye contact. “I've gotta get home. Marie'll be having a shit fit. And I've been wearing the same clothes for over twenty four hours.” I spun on my heel, marching back to the guest room without a backward glance. I pushed open the door with more force than necessary, scanning the room for my boots. _There. Hair tie is a lost cause...Anything I'm forgetting in here? Nope. Good._ I walked quickly back to the living room, throwing my phone in my bag and my bag over my head. _Keys?_ My purse jangled as it thumped against my hip. _There. Good._

Loki stood near the window, the soft daylight blurring the edges of his profile, the contract hanging limp in his hands.

I sighed, “Are you going to make this worth my time?”

“Of course. Yes,” he said, as if startled by the sound of my voice.

“Then I have some arrangements of my own to make,” I said, tugging the neck of my shirt into place.

“Can't you make them from here?” he asked.

“I could, but you might start complaining about the smell,” I replied with half of a smile.

“But...you said...we were...are,” his tongue stumbled. “Stay?”

“I'll be back. Later. Possibly tonight. Most likely tomorrow,” I crossed the room to stand a few scant inches from him. “I'm coming back, Loki. Because you _need_ me. Like a kick in the pants.” Before I lost my courage, I kissed his cool cheek, flicked my eyes to his, and fled out the front door.

 


	20. Chapter 20

In my haste, I'd forgotten the weather.  Steady, fat drops of spring rain fell, quickly soaking the shoulders of my vintage-thin shirt. _Don't go back and ask for Steve.  Or an umbrella.  That would undermine your dramatic exit._  I sighed.   _Ready, boots?  Start walking._

A soggy half hour later, I was at my car, its windshield blissfully free of parking tickets and its wheels sans boots.  I unlocked it, throwing myself inside, the seat wicking the water from my soaked clothing like a sponge.  My rain-spattered glasses I cleaned with a spare fast food napkin fished from the glove compartment.  A glance in the review mirror revealed that my hair needed a wash before being anywhere near salvageable.  It clung to my scalp and shoulders in wet, wavy spirals, its normal dull copper turned to aged bronze.  I sniffed, shivering, then turned on the ignition.

“I'm still fucking cold.  Goddammit,” I grumbled as I cranked the heat.  “Let's get the fuck out of Dodge.”

I put the car in gear, joining the flow of traffic in search of the quickest way out of Washington.

**~~~**

Three hours and some bumper-to-bumper traffic later, I pulled on to my street, managing to snag a spot fifteen yards from my door.  The seatbelt squeaked against the still wet denim at my waist as I unbuckled it.  My eyelids drooped closed; I found my front door by muscle memory.  As I trudged up the front steps, the door opened.

“Well, hello there.  How are _you_ doing this drizzly evening?” Marie chirped from the threshold.

“Ugh, I need a shower.  Move, please,” I groaned, trying to stumble past her into the warm interior of home.  

She stepped back, opening the door further.  “Can I use the word 'bedraggled'?  I feel like it really fits the whole rainy-day-walk-of-shame thing you've got going right now.”

“Shut up, Marie,” I came inside, making a slow beeline for the stairs.   _Why, oh why, is the shower upstairs right now?_  I dragged my booted feet up the steps, each footfall coaxing long creaks from the aged wood.

“I fully expect all the dirty details where you're done up there,” she called after me.

“Nothing happened,” I shouted down to her.

“Your nothing?  Or my nothing?” she yelled back.

“Probably closer to yours,” I admitted loudly as I yanked off my boots.   _You need to wash all this, Nell, or it will smell like mildew._  Growling to myself, I peeled off my clammy jeans and t-shirt.

“That's fun of you.  It's been entirely too long since you've had a random makeout,” she said, now leaning against my open bedroom doorway.

“Jesus, Marie.  I'm naked,” I hissed, and snatched my towel from where I'd dropped it yesterday.   _Yesterday.  That was yesterday.  Slightly more than twenty four hours ago.  Holy balls, time flies._

“Relax, dude.  You've got 'em.  I've got 'em.  I've seen 'em before,” she paused, “Did, uh, Loki see them?”  She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“No.  He did not.”

“Did you want him to?”

“I am getting in the shower now, Marie”

“That's fine.  I can still ask you all kinds of penetrating questions,” she said with a short bark of laughter.  “Pun totally intended.”

I pushed past her to the bathroom we shared at the end of the hall.  I turned the water as hot as it would go, wincing as I stepped into the spray.

“So.  On a scale from one to god-like, how hot is he?” Marie asked over the sound of flowing water.

“Uh...close to god-like, I guess...”

“I'm amazed that you could actually have a conversation with the guy.  I usually need an hour of mental prep before speaking to anyone over an eight.”

“I started...talking...to him before I saw his face.  Then he was just so...so...um, pompous, that I found it hard to stop.  Knows he's cute, though.”  I lathered shampoo into my hair.  “Guess you could say I have a case of foot-in-mouth disease when it comes to Loki,” I hummed.

“I am guessing that's why you're home.  He finally realized you were insulting him at every turn and kicked you out.”

“Hey.  Not everyone is a post-coital grump.”

“Aha!” She threw open the shower curtain.  “You DID bang him!”

“DORCAS. MARIE.”

“Prude,” she snapped before flinging it closed.

“There was no banging.  No.  Did not.  That did not happen.  We kissed.  One time.”   _Among other things much less straight-forward._

“But he did kick you out.”

“I left.”

“...So, he didn't kick you out?”

“Asked me to stay, in fact.” I rinsed my hair and grabbed my favorite bar of soap, which smelled of cloves and orange zest.

“Hot damn.  Why the hell are you here, then?”

“Shower.  Clothes.  And I need to talk to my boss.”

“All things that could be done from the comforts of 'not here.'”

“When I said boss, I meant take a leave of absence.”

Marie poked her head around the curtain, “Seriously?!”

“Good Christ, Marie!  How many times have you seen me naked today?”

“More times than Loki.  I should tell him.  Maybe he'll get jealous,” she said, her eyes widening with mischief.  

“If you intentionally see me naked anymore today, I'm changing the WiFi password.  And I won't give it to you for a week,” I snarled halfheartedly.

“Don't make promises you can't keep, Nell,” she said, winking, before retreating out of sight.  “I know your job blows, but quitting?  On a whim?  At least have something lined up first.  I think Woodberry is hiring.”

“You never lived with waitress-me.  It wasn't pretty.  Also, I'm not quitting.  I'm...sabbatical...ing.”

“Can you even do that?”

“I don't know.  That's why I'm going to talk to HR.”

“If you are, uh, sabbatical-ing, then are you finally nutting up for grad school?  Because it's about fucking time.  I'm fully convinced that you could teach a class on Caravaggio.”

“It's more of an independent study...in preparation for grad school.”  I felt my calf for evidence of stubble.  “Should I shave my legs?”

“If you have to ask, then yes.”

Marie was quiet as I lathered a leg and groped for my razor.

“What was with that coat, Nell?  Did you give it back?”

“St...it's complicated.”

“I'll bet,” she sighed.  “What do you want for dinner?  I still owe you for last night.”

“Uh, Chinese?”

“Kung pao and an eggroll?”

“Mm.”

“Got it.  See you downstairs, sexy.”

“Go away.”

I heard her shut the bathroom door, and I was finally alone.  I finished shaving, then stood under the water until it became lukewarm, and shut off the tap.

_I miss Steve._

I toweled myself dry in my bedroom, then dressed in a clean pair of yoga pants, a tank top, and a cardigan.  My wet hair stuck to my neck in wavy locks; I flipped my head and ran my fingers along my scalp to encourage air drying, then went downstairs.  Halfway down, I heard a sharp knock at the door.   _Must be the Chinese._  “Marie! The food’s here.”

She jogged to the door, her short hair in breezy disarray.  “Let me check,” she said, pressing her eye to the peep hole.  “Doesn’t look like our usual delivery person.  I’m grabbing my taser.”  She dug through a coat’s pocket, making the coat stand wobble.  “Got it.  Fully charged.”  Palming it, she opened the door.

“Package for, um, Eleanor P. Keavy,” said the delivery man in a scratchy tenor.

“Nell, did you order something?” Marie asked over her shoulder.

“Maybe my aunt sent me Girl Scout cookies or something,” I replied, coming to stand next to her in the doorway.  “That’s me.  Eleanor Keavy.”

“You have I.D.?  I’m supposed to ask,” he said, sheepish.

“Uh, yeah, give me a sec,” I said, then went to rifle through my bag on the coat tree.

“So, uh... Phil.  I’ll bet you see a lot of interesting people, being a delivery person,” Marie flirted.

He laughed, “You have no idea…”

“I’d love to hear about it sometime,” she replied, her voice dropping lower.

I rolled my eyes as I came back to the door. “Here,” I said, thrusting my arm between them to show my driver’s license.

“Keavy, Eleanor Prudence.  Okay.  Sign here, please.”  He passed me a stylus and an electronic pad.  “Have a good night.  Ma’am, Ms. Keavy,” he said, exchanging a smallish cardboard box for the e-sign machine.  

I watched the delivery van drive away, its brake lights shining vivid red in the misty, early evening atmosphere.  Retreating inside, I slammed the door behind me and said to Marie, “I can’t believe that guy used my whole name.  Ugh.”

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” she replied with a smirk, stowing her taser back in a coat pocket.  “What’s in the box?”

“Well, it’s not from my aunt,” I said, examining the shipping label.  “It’s from...New York?  The only people I know there are the twins.  Why would they send me anything?”

“Apologies for the bait-and-switch?”

“This box is not nearly big enough for that,” I replied, rubbing a hand down my face.  “I’ll open it later.”

“It’s always later, later, later with you.  Open it now.  Puh-leeez?” Marie whined.

“I have to call HR before I forget.  Should send them an email, too, just to be safe.”  I went back to my purse in search of my phone.

“You were one of those kids who never scoured the house for your presents before Christmas, weren’t you?”

“There is something to be said for delayed gratification, Marie,” I drawled.  “I’m calling HR now.  Shut up, please.”

**~~~**

“Nell, the food’s here.  They gave us extra rice.  Again,” Marie called from the living room.  I heard the crackle of a paper bag, then characteristic pop of opening food containers.  “How’d the talk with HR go?  Did Susan give you the runaround?”

I came back into the living room, fixing Marie with a quizzical stare.  “It went...fine.”

“Then why the weird face?”  She put an eggroll on a plate and held it out to me.

“They were ‘expecting my call.’ Said everything was taken care of.  That ‘there will always be a position for me at this institution’ and wished me luck on my ‘new academic endeavour,’” I replied, air-quoting appropriately before taking the plate. I sat heavily on the couch, sinking into the deep cushions.

“That’s decent of them.  Strange, yes, but very decent,” she said as she plunged chopsticks into a container of Szechuan style vegetables.

I remained silent, taking small bites of eggroll.   _Is Loki pulling the strings?  If you have to ask, Nell, then the answer is yes._ My phone vibrated, startling me from my reverie.  A picture of Loki appeared on the screen; Daft Punk blared from the speaker.

“Hello,” I growled into the receiver.

“Are you ready, Nell? Have all of your outstanding obligations been met?”

“Loki.  When did you mess with my phone?”

“This morning.  You were...otherwise occupied.”

“Well, haven’t you just been a busy beaver?”

“I _am_ fluent in sarcasm, my dear.  I had to do something about our plans.  Instead of spending the day wallowing in my loneliness.”

“Did _not_ peg you as a wallower.”

“New, ah, development.  This afternoon may have had something to do with it.”

“Is that him?!  Put it on speaker!” Marie hissed, reaching for my phone.

“Back the shit off, Marie,” I hissed back, trying to wedge myself further into the couch.

“Did you get the itinerary?  I had it sent over,” Loki said, his voice low in my ear.

“Uh,” I stammered, extracting myself from the couch to search for the package. “Yes?”

Marie appeared at my side with a pair of scissors, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

“I haven’t signed anything yet, Loki.  Aren’t you getting a little ahead of things?” I opened the box with a grunt.

“I’m doing my best to keep you fully informed,” he said.  I heard a smile in his tone.

Inside the box was a stack of plane tickets, the topmost detailing a departure, tomorrow morning, from the Dulles airport.

He continued, “How do you feel about Prague?”

 


	21. Chapter 21

“No.  No Prague.  It’s too-” I started.

“Prague is great!  Why don’t you go? Come on, Nell, go see the world!” Marie chimed in, trying to pull the phone from my hand.

“Marie!” I hissed, batting her scrabbling hands away.

“Are you in distress, Nell?” Loki asked, his voice radiating calm innocence.

“Not unless you count thwarting Marie’s attempted plan to live vicariously through me,” I growled from behind my teeth while glaring pointedly at Marie, who stuck her lower lip out as a pouty response.

“Does she require, ah, more reassurance as to your continued well-being?” he asked.

“I would’ve hoped the once was enough,” I replied.

“If I may reiterate my point.”

“What the hell,” I muttered.  “Fine. Marie.”  I passed the phone to her, watching her face break into a mischievous grin.

“This is Marie,” she chirped.  Her smile disappeared as she listened to Loki, then brightened as she inhaled to reply, “Yes, I know, but-” Her jaw snapped shut.  “Oh really? Huh. Well, you just give me your word on that,” she paused, listening.  “All right, then.  I will hold you to it.  Laters!”  She handed the phone back and I put it to my ear.

“Nell, there will be a car for you tomorrow morning, at 9.  Get some rest,” he commanded.

“Wait.  Are we, uh, going to Prague?” I stammered incredulously.

“Where would you like to go?”

I pursed my lips in thought before replying, “Canada is a nice place, right?  Can we start there?  Get our, um, feet wet, so to speak?”

“As you wish, Nell,” he cleared his throat and continued, “In the package I sent, you will find our revised contract, which I strongly advise you look over and sign as soon as possible.  I will see you in the morning,” he said, his voice low and businesslike.

“Hang on a sec, Loki.  What did you say to Marie?”

“The usual fear quelling platitudes and oaths of obedience,” he said, sounding bored.

“Sure.  Because that’s exactly what Marie sounds like when she’s being placated,” I said, letting the accusation hang in the air.

“Think what you like, Miss Keavy.  Goodnight,” he replied, not rising to the bait.

I sighed, “Good night, Loki.”

“Sleep well, Eleanor.”

I ended the call.

Marie had folded herself in to the couch as Loki and I finished our conversation; her mouth was full of spicily sauced veggies.

“So.  What did he say to you?” I asked, keeping my tone light.

“What did _he_ tell you he said?” she answered through a bite of carrots.

“First, ew.  Second, when did the two of you get together and decide that straight answers aren’t necessary?” I grumbled, stabbing Kung Pao chicken from the container, not bothering to use my chopsticks as they were intended.  

The silence stretched between us, punctuated only by the crunching of peanuts and water chestnuts.

Marie let out a heavy sigh, then offered her container of vegetables.

“Don’t sulk.  Please?  You’re about to have an adventure and I have to stay here and I just need to know that my best friend won’t disappear and experiment with space-time relativity and would you please just take a snow pea for god’s sake?!”

I raised my eyebrows, then my chopsticks, grabbing a solitary snow pea from the container.

“I accept your peas offering,” I said before crunching it down.  I let out a giggle.

“Good. You gave peas a chance. And you laughed, which means I’m off the hook,” Marie said with a smile.  “Don’t worry about what Loki said or didn’t say.  You call me when you can and don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

“Yes, Mama Dorcas.”

“Sass.  Are you packed?”

“Vaguely.  I think I need to double check my underwear supply. Possibly do another load of laundry.”

“Are you bringing functional, or,” she looked at me from beneath her eyelashes, “Recreational undergarments?”

“You are the most ridiculous,” I said, laughing. “The chief of the bra-and-panties-police does not get a say on this one.”

“It’s good to be the Chief,” she gave a mock salute.  “Does Nell accept bribes of ice cream from the Chief?  Because there’s a pint of Dublin Mudslide that could have her name on it...if she lets me pick her wardrobe,” Marie batted her eyes at me.

“Alas, no.  I am not to be bribed by messrs. Ben or Jerry this evening,” I stood, setting my half empty container of Kung Pao chicken on the coffee table. “Packing. Laundry. Bed.”  

“Suit yourself,” she dove back into her veggies. “I’ll clean up the leftovers.  Go do that stuff, and then sleep.  Your tomorrow sounds busy, and I don’t want you repeating the scenario from two nights ago.”

“Like you’ve never had a wild night,” I yawned. “I’ll see you in the morning.  Make coffee?”

“Only if you let me pick out something for your travel wardrobe…”

“Ugh, fine. But do it tomorrow.”

She pulled a fist down in triumph.  “Will do, champ.”

“Bah,” I mumbled as I shuffled up the stairs to my bedroom.   _Ready, Nell? Starting packing._

I pulled a sturdy, smallish duffel bag from my closet, unzipped it, and sighed.

_It is going to be a long night._

*******

**2 Weeks Later**

Grass squeaked between my feet and worn cobblestones as I picked my way down a narrow, foggy street.

“I changed my mind.  I don’t need to see the original context.  Or the site.  I’ll just take your word for it,” I whispered to Loki as we walked side by side.  “I’ve spent too much time on this one already.  Let’s just find a suitable drop site, leave it, and get some coffee.”

“You said you wanted authenticity, Nell.  Once we get to our intended destination, you’ll see that it is the perfect place,” he replied directly into my ear.

The fog limited our visibility to a few feet, and I had no idea where Loki was taking us.

“Do you think we’d find it faster if it jumped up and shouted, ‘Marco!’ at us?” I asked jokingly.

“That is the most inane game yet, my dear Nell.  It’s pointless, and references a historical figure known for inflating his stories to extreme proportions,” he purred, his voice low in deference to our shared space.

“Well, you just know everything about everyone.  Why am I even here, again?” I responded, my voice laden with sarcasm.

Loki inhaled, “Do I-”

My gasp stopped his reply.  A shaft of morning sunlight broke through the fog before us, glinting softly off dew covered stone. _I was not expecting...this._

“That. The expression on your face right now. That is why you are here. And to keep me humble, of course,” he proclaimed with a satisfied smirk.

“How can we leave anything here and be inconspicuous? This has to be the most noticeable place in Istanbul,” I snapped, jolted from my awestruck moment by sheer incredulity.

“The Blue Mosque holds that title, in my opinion,” he said. “We aren’t leaving it here. There’s an entrance to the old cisterns at the opposite end of the Hippodrome, which, at this hour, should be free of archaeological tourists.  We shall leave it there. Also-” he continued, holding up one finger to stop my frustrated stammering, “Before you go on about conservation woes and the vast variable that is time, there’s an excavation set to begin in the next three days.  They will find it, and be praised for uncovering such an important and previously unknown object from the First Iconoclastic Controversy.  They will be so overjoyed.  Of course, it won’t come into public knowledge for at least five years.  Carbon dating and, your favorite thing, _authentication_.”

He pulled me along the narrow street, the sounds of our hurried footsteps absorbed by the clinging mist.

“Many Byzantine icons were destroyed or lost to time,” he drawled.

“Or to thieves. Which you are,” I retorted.

“With only the best of intentions,” he said, defensive.

“Always have to have the last word, don’t you?” I said, and pulled my arm from his to drop behind him. My hands found Steve’s pockets, touching the reason for our early morning visit. The icon was small, a portable and therefore easily saved Theotakos. It remained out of sight, but I knew the subject intimately. A mother and child painted on wood panel, dark eyes and swaths of fabric stark against the soft golden background.

In the couple of weeks since Loki and I began our arrangement, we'd traveled to four cities in three countries, Istanbul being the latest. The sheer amount of art he possessed was mind boggling. He’d managed to keep the exact location of the storehouse hidden, but he did rent out a large storage space in each city we’d visited. Each unit had the exact same layout, complete with a mysterious door-to-nowhere at the back of the space.   _Where does that go?  What is beyond?_ A tug on my right wrist from Steve brought me back to the present. _What? Are we there?_

“Nell,” Loki hissed from a niche. “This way.” He put a finger to his lips, motioning me to follow.

“Are we secret agents, now?” I rolled my eyes.

“You wanted to be inconspicuous,” he replied. “I was just playing along. Come on.” His eyes narrowed, searching the fog.

I rubbed the corner of the Theotakos again, then unbelted Steve. _I have a strange feeling…_

Loki pulled me through a doorway into the cistern.  It was cooler, more humid than the foggy atmosphere above.   _And it’s dark.  Hey Steve, got a light?_ I chuckled. Steve’s embroidery started to glow, illuminating a dark stairwell an eerie, green cast. _That’s new. That would’ve been helpful in Toronto._

“It never used to show off like this. Not even when I asked nicely,” Loki pouted from the step beneath me, his tall form silhouetted by Steve’s incandescence. “This should do nicely,” he said, running a fingertip along a shallow shelf. “These held lamps, once.  Less...harsh, than torchlight. More...refined,” he mused. With a snap of his fingers, Loki conjured a small witch-light. “Go on then.”

I swallowed, pulling out the icon, its golden background gleaming in our magical light. It fit on the shelf, not perfectly, but in a forgotten sort of way that seemed right; like the one who’d left it had stepped out for a cup of strong coffee and an afternoon of leisurely conversation. Loki’s witch-light reflected the gold paint, creating an illusion of movement from the figures against it.

Steve squeezed my shoulder as the embroidery’s light faded. I didn’t realize we were invisible until-

“Dammit, cloak,” Loki swore, his eyes roving from the top of my head to my feet, side to side, searching for a glimpse of me.

I grabbed Loki’s hand, the one not holding the witch-light. “Hush. Someone is coming,” I said as he winked out of sight. He gave my hand a squeeze in silent understanding.

A voice drifted down the stairwell, “Been following since Toronto...She’s not come up on any database...Not even a parking ticket…”

I smirked. _Knew it. Street parking level: ninja. Be serious, Nell.  They’re talking. About. You._

A flashlight’s bright beam cut through the murky darkness and I gasped, wrapping myself in Steve’s woolly bulk. _You are invisible. Stay quiet. Stay. Quiet._ My heart thumped in my chest; it jumped frantically from my throat to the pit of my stomach and back again. _Shitshitshitshit. What the fuck is going on? Fuckfuckfuckityfuck._

I struggled to keep my breathing silent. Loki gripped my hand with fingers I knew to be cool; they now felt warm and clammy.

_No. Nonononono. Not now._

Steve pressed my shoulders to the crumbling wall as the flashlight beam edged ever closer.

I felt a hand, Loki’s hand, now bereft of witch-light, cup the side of my face. His thumb rubbed my cheekbone, soft and rhythmic, as he pressed us both to the wall.

“Negative. They must’ve made me and doubled back to their hotel. Dammit. Who knows where they’ll go from here? Meet at the rendezvous by twenty-one hundred hours. We’ll have to start again.”

The flashlight, and its bearer, retreated up the stairs.

_Jesus Christ on a crutch._

As the footsteps faded, Loki dropped his hand from my face and summoned the witch-light again.

“Nell,” he whispered, eyes finding mine in the gloom. “We have to go. Now. Do you need your medicine?”

I took a slow breath, “No. I’ll be okay. Let’s just get outside.”

“Of course,” he said. He reaffirmed his hold on my hand as we escaped the cistern into the golden morning light of Istanbul.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Example of a Theotakos: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theotokos#mediaviewer/File:Gelati_Theotokos.jpg  
> Disclaimer: I have not been to Istanbul. I am taking some liberties. Have some salt.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, there are sexytimes ahead. Fairer warning for intimacy.

The fog was lifting as we left the cisterns; tourists and street vendors were scattered across the Hippodrome. Loki pulled me along, his fingers now gripping my elbow. He glanced at everyone we passed, eyes flicking from face to face to me, repeating that pattern, never still.

“Are we in trouble?” I asked in a nervous whisper.

“Not so much we, as _me_ …” he trailed off.

_What isn’t he telling me, Steve?_

Steve did not respond.

We kept walking down a wide avenue, diverting from our earlier route from the hotel. Just as I veered left, Loki jerked my arm, and we continued straight, past ever increasing throngs of tourists and locals.

“We’re taking the longer way back,” he said out of the corner of his mouth.

“Good thing I wore my comfy shoes, then,” I mumbled. “I guess we aren’t stopping for that coffee, either.”

“That would be correct,” he replied as we slowed to avoid picture-snapping backpackers.

“You _will_ explain,” I growled.

“Once we are in a, ah, more private location, yes,” he agreed, matching my tone.

“Great. Fine. _Fine_ ,” I hissed under my breath.

~~~

It took us just over an hour to return to our hotel. The highlight of this extended trip was ducking into a rug seller’s stall; he encouraged Loki to buy an apartment’s worth of carpets ( _“For your beautiful wife”_ ) which Loki refused ( _“These prices are too high”_ ) before we could continue.

We walked through the hotel lobby arm in arm, Loki still casting furtive glances at the scant few people present. He pushed the elevator’s call button, and with a cheery ding, it opened.

“Can we talk now?” I asked once the doors closed.

“Not yet. Your lack of patience is unbecoming, Nell,” he replied, tightening his hold on my arm.

“You can let go of me now, you know. Not going to get lost in an elevator,” I grumbled.

The elevator rang our arrival to the fifth floor, and Loki pulled me towards our rooms. His door opened as we approached it, clicking softly shut behind us. Only then did he drop my arm. I let out a long breath.

“What’s going on, Loki? Why are we running?” I asked.

“You presumably overheard that little one-sided conversation in the cisterns? The ‘following them since Toronto’ part? I fear our activities have alerted, ah, a certain authority. Said authority and I have never been on, er, the best of terms. So yes, we are avoiding them,” he spoke as he paced the room. “Disguises would not be amiss, either…” He threw open the closet, revealing three dark suits and one -

“Is that a cape?” I reached a hand to pluck at the garment.

“I was hoping to attend the opera at some point on our journey,” he replied, swatting at my hand.

I stuck my tongue out in retaliation and sat heavily on his bed.

“What’s wrong with having Steve make us invisible?”

“Too complicated. Easier to be plain faces than an expanse of suspiciously vacant space. I could cast a small glamour for myself. And for you also, dear Nell. That hair…” he mused, turning around and crossing the space between us in one long stride. Before I could protest, Loki traced my hairline to my temple, sweeping coppery flyaways behind my ear. “There,” he breathed. “Now you’ll blend in much better.” He smiled, the grin not reaching his eyes as his hand lingered near the back of my neck.

My eyes narrowed in response, and I cautiously reached to undo my hastily assembled chignon. Mahogany tresses spilled over my shoulder. _He made me a brunette?! Oh hell no._ I glared at my new hair, then swung my head to skewer Loki with my gaze.

“Is. This. _Permanent_?” I growled.

“It could be. If needed,” Loki’s hand dropped from my neck as he rose, stepping away warily.

“We’ve talked about this. You need to ask before pulling shit like this. I’m sure we could’ve, I don’t know, very nonchalantly purchased some hair dye, or a wig. Some type of non-magical solution,” I grimaced, clenching my hands into fists.

“This was faster. They are watching us, they’ve been watching us. I don’t want to risk-” he cut himself off and ran a hand through his hair, long fingers throwing it into chaos. He turned away from me. “Pack your things. We leave for Prague once it’s dark.”

“Goddammit,” I swore. “You said. You would. Explain. So _explain_.” I removed an uncharacteristically silent Steve, then stood, squaring my feet. _Brace for impact_.

Loki looked over his shoulder, his face an expression of surprise at my defiance.

“Explain? That S.H.I.E.L.D., that absurdly named organization, is looking, not just for me, but for you as well?” he alleged as he pivoted to face me. “I’ve done nothing to gain their favor and much to earn their distrust. Do you think they want to invite us over for tea and stimulating conversation? No. They have questions, and I am the one from whom they want answers, which I, of course, have no desire to give. So we are _hiding_. We are _running_ ,” he paused, taking a long breath. “As much as they want me, they can’t have me, and I’ve led them on a _merry_ chase.

“Should they discover you, and our, ah, involvement...I fear...the things that may come to pass,” he finished.

“That I’ll spill all your secrets? That contract had a non-disclosure agreement,” I reminded him. “You should know, you wrote it.”

“Certain members of S.H.I.E.L.D….are more creative than others,” he said, letting the words hang in the air. He continued, “If you had read the contract thoroughly, you would have noticed a clause regarding your safety.”

“ _Go on_.”

“Should any harm befall you, whether caused by...myself or an outside force, the contract is voided. You could leave, go where you pleased. Fully compensated, of course.”

“So...you you don’t want to inadvertently void our deal. We’re running so I can keep, uh, working,” I posited.

“Something like that, yes,” he agreed.

Then Steve lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Is someone coming?” I asked, reaching for Steve.

“No,” he snarled, brow furrowing as he glared at the coat.

“Then why?” I flapped a hand in Steve’s direction.

“Because it’s nosy and can’t keep its opinions to itself.”

“You know what? No. That is such utter _bullshit_! If Steve can say it, then why can’t you?”

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose. “Pack. Your. Things.”

“Fine!” I shouted, grabbing Steve and throwing open the door that connected our rooms. _Who the hell does he think he is? Secret-agent-organization-S.H.I.E.L.D. my ass._  I tossed my duffel bag on the bed. _If he could actually talk about things instead of getting evasive, that would be nice...We never did talk about that kiss. That very nice kiss. Oh shut up, Nell, it was just the once._

A rustle of fabric shocked me from my scrutiny; I spun to see Loki leaning against the open door frame. His suit jacket was gone; his pale blue shirt had its sleeves rolled to the elbow and its hem untucked. His feet were bare.

“I am sorry, Nell,” he said in a low voice. “A being known for lies and chaos tends to cling to the familiar.” A tight smile graced his features. “You asked for two qualities upon beginning this arrangement: equality and honesty. The first, I don’t believe exists at all, and the second, well, it’s not my best skill.”

“I see that you are trying,” I acknowledged, shoving a shirt into my duffel. “And I accept your apology.”

“I’m not quite finished,” he replied, stepping into my room. “This...work we’ve been doing. It...pleases you. You’ve not had an attack of nerves since the day we met. I will not risk you to these people. I fear your destruction at their hands,” his voice cracked. He stood before me, close enough to touch. I stared at my feet, ducking my head to avoid his piercing gaze. He sighed, stepping away from me to retreat to his room.

“Loki,” I whispered, bringing my eyes to find his. “Stay?”

In the space of a second, he returned to stand before me.

“Do you know what you are asking?” he said, fingers tilting my chin to hold my gaze. “You haven’t been sleeping,” he murmured, narrowing his eyes to take in the new lines below my eyes.

“Yes,” I answered, agreeing to both statements. He bent his head to mine and kissed me. I felt his tongue trace my upper lip, teasing my mouth open. I pulled myself into the kiss, my hands gripping his narrow waist. In response to my enthusiasm, he caressed my cheek, fingers mapping their way down my neck to dance along my collarbone. With a gasp, I broke the kiss, and his mouth followed his fingers to nuzzle the sensitive skin there.

One of his hands found its way to the small of my back, pulling our bodies together, while the other drifted up from my shoulder to comb through my unbound hair. I let out a moan.

“Um, ah, bed?” I could barely frame the question.

“Mmm, yes,” Loki purred against the slope of my shoulder. I felt his teeth scrape lightly over my skin, then he pushed me backwards on to the bed, where I landed with a quiet laugh.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, smirking.

“...Nothing,” I replied.

He raised an inky brow in silent inquiry.

“I’m about to fuck a, uh, a _god_ ,” I said, propping myself up on one elbow.

“That word is a bit harsh. Also,” he tugged Steve off the bed and put him in the closet.

“Ah,” I sighed, sitting up to reach for his shirt.

“Hands off, Nell,” he said, voice soft and insistent.

He unbuttoned it, slowly exposing a column of ivory skin. I watched the lithe planes of his muscles twist and pull as he shrugged off his shirt. I couldn’t keep my eyes from appraising every line of his torso, the skin unmarred by scars or time.

I pressed my legs together as I stared hungrily at his naked chest, the little pressure created doing nothing to quell the ache between them. _Oh, you are so lovely_. I bit my lower lip, the slight pain focusing my desire.

Loki grinned, and grabbed at my knee, urging me to the very edge of the bed. His fingers skimmed over my denim-clad thighs as he knelt between them. My hands searched for the button of my jeans, but Loki swatted them away.

“Hands. _Off_. Nell,” he growled, looking up at me from beneath dark eyelashes. He slipped cool hands underneath the hem of my t-shirt, sliding them up my stomach to my ribs, exposing my chest as he pulled my shirt over my head, throwing it on the floor in a smooth motion. _Thank the lord for Marie, I am wearing the one cute bra I brought with me_. My freed hands wrapped themselves around his sculpted shoulders as I kissed him again, sucking his bottom lip between my teeth, nipping it gently. He bore me back down to the bed, cradling my face with one hand. The skin of his back warmed under my touch before he unwound my arms. He pinned them above my head, then began retreating down my torso, fingers trailing over the joints of my arms, my shoulders; he pulled at the straps of my bra with his teeth, mouth meandering over the tops of my breasts. I felt lips and tongue and teeth snake across my body to the waistband of my jeans. Popping the button, he then hooked strong fingers between denim and the skin of my hips, forcefully tugging down both jeans and underwear.

“Could these be any tighter?” he asked, leaning back to pull them fully off me, the fabric falling to a heap on the floor.

“I didn’t hear you complaining earlier,” I replied.

He stood, fiddling with the fly of his trousers.

“Need a hand?” I asked with a grin.

“In a moment,” he said as they fell from his hips with a muffled clank.

“Oh Loki,” I sighed, sitting up to reach for the bulge barely concealed by black boxer briefs. I scooted forward, the duvet quickly soaking up the wetness of my arousal. My fingers brushed against his cotton-clad length and he let out a hiss of pleasure. He grabbed my hand, lacing our fingers together as he pulled it away.

“What? Why?” I breathed.

He knelt between my legs again, pinning my hand to my hip before releasing it. I lay back down, taking a shuddering breath in an effort to remain logical.

“You first, Nell. I want to see you,” he said as he kissed his way from my inner thigh out to the swell of my hip.

“It’s, ah,” I gasped as his breath tickled my outer lips. “I haven’t, mmm, trimmed the grass, ahh, so to speak…”

Loki stopped his teasing to place his chin on the swell of my pussy, looked up at me, and said, “I’m bedding a woman, not a child.”

With that, he turned the full focus of his attention to what lay between my legs.

I felt his tongue explore my folds, lapping at my wetness, tasting my depths, drawing ever closer to my clit. My breathing was ragged as he continued the sweet torture, then he reached his destination. _Oh sweet Christ don’t ever stop_. A moan escaped my lips, joined by more as he pushed a finger inside me, curling it to find the place that would make me shatter.

“Loki,” I keened as I fell over that golden edge, his tongue flicking against me as my back arched off the bed. My breathing slowed as I came back to myself; one of Loki’s arms draped over my hips, the other caressing the length of my thigh. A slow smile creased my face.

“Enjoy yourself?” Loki purred.

“You were there,” I retorted.

He laughed, “Indeed…” He crawled up my body, strong arms supporting his form so as to not crush me as he retraced his earlier path to my neck. He kissed the line of my collarbone, nudging my bra strap off my shoulder.

“I forgot that was still there,” I giggled.

“I’m removing your clothing at my leisure, Nell,” he growled playfully, then rolled off me. “Let me take care of it now.”

I shifted to lie on my stomach, soon feeling Loki’s deft fingers undo the clasp of my bra. I pulled it off, tossing it to my growing mountain of clothing. A lock of red hair fell in front of my face, startling me.

“When did that get fixed?” I asked in disbelief.

“You didn’t look like yourself,” he replied, moving my hair in order to nibble my shoulder.

“Mmm,” I moaned, squirming at the delicate touch. I reached for him then, momentarily taken aback by his lack of boxer briefs.

“You were focused on...other things,” he rumbled, answering my unasked question. He stroked my cheek and brought me in for another deep kiss, skillfully rolling himself back on top of me. I hitched a leg around his hip, entangling us further.

My hips canted, and he poised himself at my entrance, waiting. Our eyes met as one of his hands shifted to clutch the flesh of my hip, and my hands drifted too, floating between Loki’s firm ass and the creamy expanse of his back.

“Nell,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Loki,” I responded in kind.

With the next breath, he pushed into me, my sex still slick from his earlier ministrations.

I shivered, both from the pleasing pressure of his length and its temperature. _That answers **that** question_. As he seated himself fully, he traced his index finger across my brow and over my cheekbones, mapping the features of my face. I shifted my hips, fingers digging into his ass, encouraging him to move. He started, in and out with slow, deep thrusts; the hand on my hip gripping ever tighter, anchoring our bodies together. My breath came in short gasps as he kissed my jaw, my neck, over and over again.

“Nell, I-” he breathed.

“Yes,” I answered, scratching my nails up his back with one hand while tangling my fingers in his hair with the other.

A sharp intake of breath signalled his climax; I felt him spasm inside me, and I held him close as he came down, just as he had done for me. He tilted his head, bringing his lips to mine softly, once, twice, the third dissolving into a entanglement of lips and tongue. I kept craving the taste of him, not wanting to stop touching him.

Then he broke the kiss with a low chuckle, shifting himself to my side. I let out a contented sigh as I ran my fingers through his dark, silky hair.

“I know it’s a bit after-the-fact, but could we try to find some Plan-B or...something similar?” I grimaced. “Not to kill the mood, but…”

“Fear not, dear Nell,” he murmured, snapping his fingers. “Magic.”

“How kind. You should teach me that one,” I snickered.

The silence stretched, a languorous, lazy thing that occupied the space between our satisfied breaths.

For a moment, in Istanbul, in the arms of a god, I forgot that we were now on the run, I forgot the world beyond our shared bed.

For a moment, while we breathed together, I was happy.

 ****  



	23. Interlude: Marie

_Bzzt._

_Bzzt._

_Bzzt._

“...Hng. What? It’s four in the morning. Don’t you people ever _sleep_?”

“Fletcher. Do you have a status report?”

“This couldn’t wait til daylight hours? Nell hasn’t called since she got to Istanbul, and she’s usually pretty good about checking in. _Someone_ must’ve fuh-screwed up.”

“We were very discreet. The orders are specific: do not engage. Huh? Hang on a sec, Fletcher...Yes...Mmhm...They lost them, Marie. The agent in question thinks he got made. Dammit. We were so...close.”

“I’ll text her later. She _trusts_ me. I just don’t trust Loki further than I can throw him.”

“As do we. Though, if this op does go south, you’ll need to come in.”

“To the Baltimore office? Merrick finally got over the Christmas party?”

“...No. To D.C. The, uh...the _Triskelion_.”

“You’re calling me up?! The big show? The dance? I’m tagging in?!”

“It’s just for this op, Fletcher. Keep your nose clean and your hands to yourself, then we can talk about a more permanent relocation.”

“Please. My nose is cleaner than Captain America’s.”

“That’s not what Carter said after the last time you came in for a debrief.”

“Carter must be _immune_ …”

“Whatever, Marie. Just get into contact with Eleanor Keavy, before she becomes collateral damage. You know we won’t hesitate bringing Loki in. She gets in the way, there won’t be much you can do.”

“Give me 48 hours, at least.”

“You have 36.”

“...Understood. But-”

“No buts, Agent. You have a day and a half. Use it wisely.”

 _Click_.

“But...she’s my...friend.”


	24. Chapter 24

"Loki," I whispered, removing myself from his embrace. A chill ran across my bare shoulders, followed by the light touch of a sheet draping over them. "Why do you keep insisting on Prague?"

"I...have a craving for goulash," he answered, voice balanced between suspicion and jest.

I pulled the sheet tight to my chest before looking back at him.

"That's not your real answer," I said.

"That wasn't your real question," he replied.

"I'm trying very hard to not be scared right now," I breathed.

"Anything other than fear would be foolish," he sighed. The bed groaned as he shifted to lean against the headboard. "Especially if they call upon...certain allies." He drummed long fingers on the smooth expanse of his chest. He reached a hand out for me then; I savored the soft contact as he skimmed his fingertips along my neck, the sheet falling off my shoulder.

I watched him trace patterns down my arm, his touch lingering on the random freckles of my bicep.

"We have to get up, Nell. We have to leave," he said, voice low.

"I thought we were waiting til tonight," I prompted, my brow knitting in confusion.

"I've changed my mind. We'll go as soon as we're packed," he replied, dropping his hand from my arm.

"I should tell Marie. She wanted a postcard from the Topkapi Palace. Sightseeing is off the table, I presume?"

"Call her later. It's still early there, Let her sleep. Besides," he purred, "You don't want to make her jealous. Yet." He pressed an open-mouthed kiss upon the slope of my shoulder.

"Ugh. If you keep doing that, I am never getting up. We are never leaving," I caught his gaze and smirked, "And you are never getting that goulash."

A flash of concern darkened his features, then fled as quickly as it came.

"How…?" he murmured. "Of course, we must have goulash." He rose from the bed with a despondent sigh. "How long until you are ready?"

"Well," I started, my eyes roaming up and down the sculpted stretch of his body as he bent, retrieving his discarded clothing. "I would like a snack, and some coffee...a shower, time to be an art history nerd in Istanbul...so, a week?" I laughed nervously. Loki glared.

"Give me half an hour."

He gave his shirt a vigorous shake, the muscles of his back rippling from the slight effort.

 _I could stare at you for days. For weeks. What would Michaelangelo have given to have you as a model? You are so exquisitely perfect._  He winked at me as he tugged on his pants.  _And so goddamned cheeky. With a...very nice ass._  I giggled.

"What?" he asked, buckling his belt.

I stood quickly, keeping the sheet wrapped well above my chest. "Packing. Nothing. Nope. Unh uh," I babbled.

"In half an hour, then," he said before crossing back to kiss me, playfully nipping at my bottom lip. I closed my eyes as he combed a hand through the hair at my temple.

"You, sir," I rasped, breaking our contact, "You need to get your priorities straight."

One corner of his mouth pulled up in a wry grin, "Adequate disguises  _are_  a priority, Nell." He dashed out of my room.

I yanked a lock of hair in front of my nose.

"Goddammit," I groaned.  _Brown again._  My legs trembled as I walked to the closet for Steve. The coat practically climbed up my arm as I wrapped its warm bulk around my bare form.  _Now you're getting cute. You are not giving me an I-told-you-so. We have to pack. Dangerous things are afoot, Steve. Dangerous, mysterious things._  I picked up my scattered clothes, tossing them in the vague direction of my duffel bag.  _What to wear? Nothing says "I'm trying to blend in" like black…_  I unwrapped Steve to shimmy into my skinny jeans.

As I rummaged through a pile of clothing for a clean shirt, I heard Loki clear his throat.

"Good Christ! Were you watching me dress?" I shrieked. "You and Marie should start a support group for creepers."

"Don't be ashamed of your body, Nell. I've seen you unclothed. Seeing you half clothed should make little difference."

"One: context. Two: I'm not ashamed of my body...I'm just not into flaunting it," I snapped as I yanked a shirt over my head.

"Are you ready, then?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest, making the buttons of his shirt strain with the slight tension.

"Just need Steve," I mumbled, pulling on the coat. "Okay. Now we can go."

He scooped my duffel off the floor, nodding for me to follow. The room door closed behind us as we padded down the soft carpet of the hallway, the hotel eerily silent. Rounding a corner, Loki stopped short, and I stumbled into a stranger.

"Oh...lütfen," I stammered. Loki eased a hand around my elbow, drawing me back behind him. Steve tightened around my waist.

"Do I know you?" I asked the stranger, whose eyes hadn't left mine. He cocked his head to look at Loki and ignored my question.

"Running only makes it worse, Loki. For you and for her," he said in a gravelly tenor. "If we are looking for you, then you can be sure that they are too. And they are not as inclined to forgive this minor transgression. You have to go back to Asgard. Stop making others clean up your messes."

Loki backed down the hallway, his hand still tight on my elbow as we turned to run for the stairwell.

"It's not too late f-" the man shouted, but his word were cut off by the slamming of a door as we fled.

"Loki," I panted, "I...don't...please...slow down…"

"We can't stop," he fired back. "They'll be on us if we stop." We burst out of the hotel's side door into a narrow alleyway. "Do you need this bag?" He gave my duffel a shake.

"Yes! Of  _course_  I need it!"

"No, I don't think you do. You only  _need_  this," he handed me my passport, then dropped my bag in a doorway.

"Hey! Stop being an ass," I said, wrenching away from him to recover my bag. "My bag. My stuff. I'll carry it, if that'll make a difference."

"It's your funeral," he replied, grimacing. "Come on, then."

Loki led us through one narrow street after another, though we now walked briskly instead of running. We made our way into more crowded streets now, people and mopeds parting before us like water. Without breaking stride, Loki hailed a taxi and hauled me inside.

"Atatürk Airport, quick as you can," Loki ordered the cab driver. "There will be extra for you if you drive in silence." The driver met Loki's eyes in the rear-view mirror and nodded; the meter clicked on as he pulled into the flow of traffic.

"Are you sure this is the best way out of Istanbul? Won't, uh, SHIELD be monitoring everything?" I asked, breaking the tense quiet that had settled in the cab.

"It's fastest and most direct way to Prague. I'm not giving them any extra time to find us. You focus on staying calm," he replied with finality.

I sighed, pressing into the side of the cab.  _Who was the man in the hallway? I've seen him somewhere before, and I bet money that Loki knows him, too. What about you, Steve?_

Steve made little question marks around my wrists. I traced them absentmindedly, trying to remember where I'd seen the stranger's face. My lack of sleep was catching up to me; my eyelids drooped closed.

_Betrayal...anger...sadness...I don't deserve their forgiveness...the caw of a crow...someone screaming..._

I jolted awake, breathing hard. Loki stared at me, lines of worry creasing his brow.

"We're here, Nell," he announced softly as the cab slid to a halt. Then to the driver, "Do I need to sign anything? No? Good."

_Sign here, please..._

_Oh. Oh shit._

I followed Loki into the airport in a daze. I waited in line, produced identification when asked, and waltzed easily through airport security with one thought marching through my head:  _They knew before I left Baltimore. They knew. How could they know? They knew._

"Here," Loki said, rousing me from my introspection by thrusting a cup of coffee under my nose. "I don't trust airport baklava, but I did promise you coffee. And a postcard for Marie." He held up a picture of the Hagia Sophia.

"Marie."

"No, Loki. Remember? Dashingly clever, with excellent taste in art."

"Marie knows the guy from the hallway. He came to our house. He's the one who brought over the contract. His name was...Paul? Gil?...Phil?! Marie-hit-on-him-but-that's-not-weird-because-she-hits -on-any-human-that-moves. It was rainy. He seemed nice. She knows him. How? How do they know where we are? Has she been telling them?" I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth. "I thought she was my friend..." My voice cracked as I struggled to breathe normally.

Loki sat next to me; the leather of his chair creaking with the minor friction.

"Breathe, Eleanor. Breathe with me. Do you need your medicine?" he whispered, keeping his head close to mine.

I nodded, and Steve made little pill bottles dance around my wrists. _Always gotta be cute, don't you?_  A hiccup escaped.

After swallowing a dose with a mouthful of black coffee, I gripped the edge of my chair and took slow gulps of air, helping my body attain a state of chemically induced calm.

"You should have  _told_  me about your lack of sleep, Nell. I need to know these things," Loki hissed into my ear.

I glared at him through a fallen lock of brown hair. "Since  _when_?"

"Since...since...the beginning. Yes, the  _beginning_  would've been nice," he insisted. "Does Marie know about your sleep issues?"

"...I did tell her, yeah."

"We are partners. Have you told her  _everything_?!"

" _Christ_ , keep your voice down. We can't make a scene. I didn't give her all the gory details, but she is...was...my best friend."

"Did it never cross your mind until this very moment that she could be feeding information to those who may wish us ill?"

"I guess I'm not  _that_  paranoid."

"Maybe you should be," he growled through his teeth, then his face softened as he looked at me. "I thought I was being so clever. I thought involving you would throw them off my trail. Clearly I've underestimated SHIELD, if they've known from the start."

"I feel  _so_  comforted knowing you've been using me this whole time," I replied, the drug keeping my voice even. "You  _just_  said we were partners."

"We are  _now_. Things have...evolved," he breathed. "Your good intentions...betrayed by paranoia."

"Yours or theirs?"

His mouth twitched upward, "A bit of both, I suppose."

"What happened to  _your_  good intentions, Loki?"

Steve gave a tremor across my shoulders.

"Where they've always been: wrapped and hidden in shades of gray," he paused. "That's why we're going to Prague."

"Explain."

"Prague is my window, where the realms are thin and, ah, more accessible.

I want...I want you to trust me."

"You don't really have a craving for goulash, do you?" I gave him a wary half smile.

"That part was actually true. Nell, I'm going to show you everything. Then I will ask you to have faith," he said, voice low and pleading.

"Now boarding our first class passengers for our non stop flight to Prague, Czech Republic. Please have your boarding passes and passports ready. Again, now boarding first class passengers only, at this time."

Loki stood and offered me his hand.

I stared at it, his long fingers splayed in desperate invitation, the lines on his palm mapping journeys on which I'd never been, the trembling fingertips that knew me better than those of any previous lovers.

_Thoughts, Steve?_

But there was no response.

_On my own for this one, then._

"Faith, huh?" I let out a breath and slid my hand into his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is near, friends, and that makes me sad.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nell's mind begins to break.

My eyes closed as soon as we sat down, and I fell into a shallow doze full of too-real dreams.

_~~~_

_So much ice and rock...and cold. Never been this cold…_

Liftoff pushed me deeper into my seat…

_No pressure to be the perfect one...not like…him..._

_Metal clashed amidst wind and darkness..._

_~~~_

Pain in my elbow jolted me awake. I jerked my arm away from the passing drink cart as the flight attendant smiled in silent apology. My eyes adjusted to the dim light of the cabin, dirty glasses turning its atmosphere hazy. I peeled my cheek from the headrest to stare out the small window at the sky beyond Loki’s profile. _Darkness above and clouds below. Pretty much the same everywhere, right Steve?_

The coat was non-responsive. I sighed and turned to look down the aisle.

“You slept for little more than an hour,” Loki said, his head now twisted to look out the window.

“Did I disturb anyone?”

He didn’t reply.

“Christ I did, didn’t I? That why the flight attendant knocked into me...Shit. Shitshitshit. I fucked up. I-”

Loki cut me off, pressing a cool hand to my lips.

“Nell, the only person you’re disturbing right now is me. Calm yourself,” he said, his low voice momentarily quelling my anxiety. He took a breath, then continued,“Why haven’t you been sleeping?”

“I don’t want to have this conversation right now,” I whispered, then exhaled. “I can’t. Not without…”

_What, Nell? Without what? Sounding crazy? Without mentioning the nightmares? The looks you give yourself in the mirror every morning since this started? Why you can’t tell Marie anything anymore? Why the only peaceful sleep you’ve had recently was when you slept with him? Why-_

A cool hand across my forehead stopped my thoughts.

“If you can’t calm yourself, I’ll have to help you,” he breathed against my ear. “This is precisely why we should talk about it now. I can _help_ you. Like...like you’ve helped me.”

“You didn’t even notice before this morning!” I hissed.

“I noticed. I chose not to say anything. I chose wrong, _obviously_.”

“When, hmm? When did you notice?”

“After we left Toronto.”

“...The castle job…”

“You’d had enough coffee to kill a small horse, and still you yawned. Your hands shook. But since then…

“You sleep in your clothes. When you eat, it’s never enough. You’ve lost some of yourself,” he ran a finger along my jawline. “There is something wrong, Nell.”

My nails dug into my palms, the tendons in my hands cramping from the tension. I pulled my face away. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

Loki let his hands drop with a sigh.

“We are not talking about this on a goddamned airplane,” I growled, tying Steve tighter around my waist and heading up the aisle.

The bathroom was cold, cramped, and smelled of sweat mixed with hand soap. Mirrored walls made the space seem bigger; my copper-haired reflection glared back at me in an infinite retreat.

_Wait, what?_

I pulled my braid apart. _Brown. So why’s it like that?_ Mirror-Nell shook her head. I blinked, and my reflection was a brunette once more. _Sleep deprivation is going to be the death of you, Nell Keavy._ I splashed water on my face, feeling more bones than flesh. _Loki’s right; one cannot live on coffee alone. Don’t you agree, Steve?_

Again, there was no reply.

_Steve? Answer me, please._

But there was nothing, no movement, no woolen embrace, no swirling embroidery.

_Fine. Be that way._

I slipped out of the bathroom and back to my seat. Loki’s eyes were closed.

“Faker,” I muttered, and the corners of his mouth twitched up.

“Real sleep is for mortals,” he sighed.

I closed my eyes and the dreams came again.

~~~

_They’d known...they’d all known and they’d hidden the truth from me...I am betrayed and cast out and they’d_

_let_

_me_

_fall…_

~~~

I woke with a gasp as the plane touched down, inertia pitching me forward.

“You’re awake. Good. I was worried I’d have to carry you,” Loki said.

“You should just leave me and run for it,” I replied. “Just-” _Like they did_ , my mind finished.

“I won’t leave you. Not like that,” he narrowed his eyes, as if he’d read my thoughts.

I stood, my back creaking as I reached into the overhead bin for my duffel bag. Loki ducked his head and followed me off the plane.

The jet-way stank of unwashed traveller and stale air. _Hopefully SHIELD doesn’t know we’re here...hopefully Marie hasn’t guessed this is where we’re going…_

“Gimme a minute,” I said over my shoulder as I raced to the nearest ladies’ room.

Women stood at most of the sinks, washing hands, freshening makeup, repinning hair; one brushed her teeth.

I hugged myself and Steve and focused on my reflection, trying to sort out my mind. I bent to rinse my face; when I raised my eyes to the mirror again, my reflection had red hair.

**_Marie_** , it mouthed.

**_Marie betrayed you. She orchestrated this whole endeavor. She encouraged it! Marie planned to sell you to SHIELD from the beginning. From the second you told her about Loki. She deserves…_ **

I rubbed my eyes, then looked back at the mirror. **_She needs to know how much she hurt you._**

Bloodshot eyes stared back at me, and we nodded together.

~~~

“How long will it take to get through customs?” I asked as I rejoined Loki in the terminal.

“Not long, if you’re me,” he tucked my hand into the crook of his arm and pulled us into the flow of foot traffic.

~~~

“Why are all your hideouts surrounded by cobblestones?” I complained later, as the cab bounced down a narrow street.

“All the streets used to be cobbles. Or bricks. Here, please,” he told the driver, tossing some bills at him as I exited.

_Prague._ My breath wisped away in a cloud. _Finally._

Keys jingled as Loki went to a door, deeply recessed from the street.

“We haven’t got all night, Nell,” he said, pushing the door open on creaky hinges. I followed him into darkness, and he closed the door behind us, then snapped his fingers for some witchlight.

“What’s a Tim Horton’s cup doing here?”

“I think you left it while we were in Toronto.”

I ran a wary hand over a crate. “But we’re in _Prague_.”

“Doors are easy, especially here.”

My bag rasped against raw wood as I squeezed past stacked frames and the occasional chair, Loki’s witchlight casting a ghostly glow. A door eased out of the gloom, and with it, a clear path.

“What’s behind door number 2?” I whispered to myself, my hand on the burnished brass knob.

Loki padded up next to me.

“This is what I wanted to show you,” he said. “From the start. This is what your faith in me means.”

I twisted the knob and pushed into the room beyond, expecting the same pitch black as the storeroom. My bag dropped to the floor, my breath rasped in my ears.

“But, this place...it was lost. Or stolen. Or bombed into a million pieces. It can’t be…” I was bathed in golden, radiant light. _This can’t be real._ I reached for the wall with trembling fingers, then I glanced back at Loki.

“It won’t break if you touch it. I’ve put a stasis on it.”

My inner art history nerd cringed, but I pressed my palm to the wall anyway. The stone was cool but not cold; I felt thin lines of old fractures, spidery and without origin. Gleaming sconces sprouted to either side of me, lit with smokeless, dripless candles.

“How? How did you get this here?” I asked incredulously.

“In lots of tiny pieces,” he replied with a half remembered grin. “The Russians had already left, and I wanted to get it all out before the Nazis stormed the Summer Palace. Thus, tiny pieces.”

“You. Broke. The Amber Room?!”

“I put it back together! It was like...a very difficult puzzle. Took me a decent amount of time to finish. And I barely had time construct a false one out of dirt. Göring almost caught me.”

I barked out a harsh laugh, “You made the Amber Room out of dirt?! Why?”

“I thought it would be funny. Pack it on to a train, go back to Berlin, and open the car only to find it’s full of dirt? I wished I’d seen their faces!” He mimed wiping away a tear. “I don’t even know if I should give this one back any time soon. Conservation isn’t good enough yet. If someone sneezed on it wrong, I feel it would fall to pieces.”

I jerked my hand from the wall.

“That’s only if I lifted the stasis, of course.”

“Of course,” I replied, turning to look at him. His face was half in shadow and half in golden light, like he’d stepped out of an Italian Baroque masterpiece. _You are so lovely._

**_Hey, focus._ **

My red-headed reflection caught my eye from across the room; an age spotted mirror ran from the floor almost to the ceiling. She cocked her head, as if to say, _**If you can’t do this, then I will.**_ I blinked, and my hair was brown again.

“This isn’t the most comfortable space for talking,” Loki said, and I just nodded in reply. “Come on then.”

His fingers brushed my arm, then he pulled me through another doorway. We wandered past brightly painted figures, through rooms of stone; it was like walking through time. Loki slipped an arm around my waist, his other hand occupied with the witchlight. I caught a glimpse of wild-eyed and bloody Saturn, a headless, human corpse dangling from his hand. I shuddered.

“Oh, Goya...he went mad in the end, you know.” Loki said, his voice barely above a whisper. We kept walking.

“Lead paint,” I replied, matching his tone.

“Something worse, I’m afraid.”

_Maybe Goya’s madness is catching, Nell._

“H-how big is this place?” I tried to take my mind from Goya and his darkness.

“Big enough.”

The next door we came to swung open gently; light spilled out from the room beyond the doorway. I made a beeline for an over-sized armchair, upholstered in a soft looking fabric of forest green, and collapsed into it. My head fell to the tufted back of the chair, my eyelids drooped. _It has been a long fucking day, Nell Keavy._

**_But you can’t rest yet._ **

_Watch me._

“You’ll be sore if you sleep like that.”

My right eye sprang open, and my voice growled, “ _Sleep is for mortals_.”

My eye closed.

Loki’s breath hissed. I heard a muffled curse.

I felt myself drifting, one half of my mind sinking into unconsciousness, the other half rushing to the waking world.

**_Marie betrayed you_** , the waking mind crooned. **_Just like fath-Odin. Just like Thor. She pitied you and betrayed you and she must be made to suffer for it._**

_No_ , the sleepy mind replied. _No, you love her. She’s your friend. Don’t. Don’t. Just. Talk to her. She wanted to protect you. Probably. Talk with her and see._

**_...No._ **

I inhaled sharply, my sleepy mind trying to fight its way to wakefulness. My eyes blinked once, twice, stayed open. Loki moved toward me, his elegant, lovely face lined with concern and anger. His mouth moved and his voice sounded very far away.

“Nell. Look at me, Nell...Damn it all to Hel…Nell, tell me what's wrong.”

“Loki,” I said, my voice like wet gravel in my ears. “If I sleep, I’ll go mad…” My head lolled on to my chest. “Or is it when I’m awake? I-I-Steve won’t talk to me anymore...what’s happening?” I grabbed the chair’s armrests to haul my body upright. “I’m in the mirror, but it’s-not-me-and-I’m-so-angry-at-Od-no-no-no-Marie-and-I-know-my-hair-is-red-no-it’s-brown-you-made-it-brown-and-mirror-me-is-red…” My breathing hitched and tears spilled down my face. “I-I’ve lost my mind...and s-s-someone else found it.”

Loki’s cool hands cradled my face. “Oh, Nell, why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

“I c-couldn’t,” I sniffled. “You’d think I was...w-w-w-worse. Than I was at home. And my mind kept thinking I was o-ok.”

“The fact that it could be from magic never occurred to you, did it?” He raked a hand through his hair. “Magic is addictive,” he mumbled, though I couldn’t tell if he was talking to me.

My sleepy mind was losing its weak grip on consciousness as Loki’s eyes roved over my face.

“Your eyes match the chair,” I sighed, falling back into the chair.

“Stay with me, Nell,” he said, but he was far away again.

_I can’t. I can’t. Not strong enough to stay._

~~~

**_I am._ **

 

 


	26. Interlude: Loki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation.

_This is why I try to keep away from mortals. I become too attached._

Nell’s head fell forward; she blinked slowly.

“I thought I’d lost you for a moment,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. I traced her eyebrow, then her temple, pushing a stray lock of brown hair behind her ear, checking her eyes for the telltale glint of a well-known liar. _Her face is cold. Like mine._

“Oh, Loki,” she sighed, her face moving out of my reach. “You could never lose _me._  I’d just keep turning up. Like a bad penny.”

She rose from the chair in a smooth motion, spinning behind it to rest her arms atop the back.

“Nell?” I asked, narrowing my eyes in unspoken accusation as I looked up at her.

“What? I’m getting my…” she paused to count on her fingers. “Seventh wind? Fourteenth? Whatever.” She drummed her fingers on the armchair as her mouth stretched into a wide and predatory smile.

_That’s_ **_not_ ** _Nell. I thought I would catch its influence sooner than this. Oh Hel…_

“If you’re trying to actually _be_ Eleanor, your impersonation needs a little work.” I stood, leaning my hip against an arm of the chair, putting more distance between myself and the thing possessing Nell.

“Be her? Gods no. I’m just…” A hand skimmed down the coat’s lapel, feeling the wool and the body beneath it. “Happy to be out and about.”

“Fine. You’ve been out. Midgard is still the same. Nothing’s changed. Much,” I held up a hand. “The music is better. Now,” I growled. “Go back to sleep. Leave her be.”

A low laugh spilled from Nell’s mouth. “It’s been forever since I’ve had access to a mortal mind. You’ve likely forgotten...I never stayed long; their minds are so fragile, but. But. But. But. This one.” It twisted Nell’s index finger around a lock of hair behind her ear. “This one likes me. And I like it. It’s quick and funny and it _wants_. It’s so _hungry_ to know things. And, surprise, surprise, it is quite willing to believe the best of us.”

“We’ve worked together for a long time, but aren’t you taking some liberties with that label?”

“I’m the better version of you. Of course there’s an ‘us.’”

“An older version. No longer compatible with the, ah, updated one,” I tugged at the cuffs of my sleeves and began rolling them to my elbows. “But we are off topic.”

“An asute observation,” it paused, steepling Nell’s fingers. “What were you hoping would happen if she stayed? That she’d temper us, make us better? We’d absorb her good intentions via osmosis? It’s certainly what _she_  wanted to happen. The joke's on the both of you, then.”

Her possessed form leaned into me, its cheek cool against mine as it wobbled on the balls of Nell's feet. I felt it breathe on the shell of my ear as it whispered, “Don’t you want to _save_ her? You know we could do it. Call it her...fee. Think of all the history she could witness. _Oh, the reparations!_

“And,” it rasped. “She would be able to _stay_ with you. With us.”

I stepped away, repulsed. “Do not. Choose. For. Her. You should know better than most the value of choice.”

“She’d choose _this_. I know it. I’m in her head, after all,” it said, pulling Nell’s glasses down her nose to blink slowly at me.

“I’d rather ask _her_ about it. It’s not that I don’t trust you...but, you’re not a version of me that is capable of trust,” I said, spreading my hands in mocking supplication.

“You think me _that magpie?_ ” It laughed and pushed the glasses back up. “I’m not bent on your destruction, Loki.”

“Then whose?”

“Ah ah ah,” it wagged a finger. “You can only know _that_  when I get what I want.”

“Can you not just let her go? Her mind is splitting itself apart. That’s not _my_ fault. That’s _yours,_ ” I spat, and walked to the fireplace to stare at the flames.

“You let it happen.”

“I wasn’t paying enough attention,” I whispered.  _I should've paid more attention. The version of me that Nell believes in, that one would've spoken up sooner._

“And now you _are!_ You can fix her mind. It would only take a taste. Then I’ll scurry back to my woolen confines, not to disturb you again for a long while.” I heard it sit back in the chair, wool coat creaking on wool cushion.

“I cannot and _will not_ choose for her.”  _One should choose their own fate._

“Ugh, Loki, it’s like you care. What human wouldn’t want immortality?”

 


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which almost everyone wants to keep Nell safe.

_Whatever is happening, I’m too tired to care anymore._

I slipped away from concious thought, my mind entwined with a long, black coat.

**_...revenge...revenge...revenge...revenge…_ **

_...I just want to sleep…_

**_...I’ll still be here when you wake…_ **

***

I ebbed into wakefulness, lured there by the comforting smell of woodsmoke. I slowly opened my eyes, looking around for Loki. His back was to me, silhouetted against a large fireplace where several fragrant logs burned. One popped loudly, sending sparks out into the room. Loki didn’t move an inch; his shoulders were hunched and his head bowed to the mantle. He’d gathered his hair into a low and twisted bun.

My neck cracked as I peeled my face from the wing of the chair I’d so unceremoniously collapsed into... _how many hours ago?_

“How long was I asleep?” I croaked.

At this, Loki let out a startled exhale and stood straight before replying, “About twelve hours.”

“You should’ve woken me up,” I said, stretching my shoulders as I made an awkward effort to stand.

“You needed to sleep. _You_ aren’t Asgardian,” he said, voice cold and clipped.

“Very funny, make fun of poor, mortal me. I thought you wanted me here, you ass,” I yawned, my insult losing its sting.

“Nell.”

“Loki.”

“When did you last speak with Marie?” he asked, his back still to me.

“I dunno, two days ago? Yesterday? What time _is_ it, anyway?” I snapped, and sat back down in the armchair.

“Call her. Now. Please.”

“Sure, fine, don’t answer my question,” I muttered, pulling out my phone. “Annnd of course I only have seventeen percent battery...”

_Ring._

_Ring._

_Ring._

_Ri-_

“ELEANOR PRUDENCE KEAVY, THANK FUCKING JESUS. _Where are you?_ ” Marie yelled.

“...uh, hello to you too, Marie,” I said as I glared at Loki’s unturned back, trying to will my eyes to burn tiny holes into it.

“Location, Keavy.”

“Christ, Marie, I’m in Prague.”

“I know that, Nell. I need your address.”

“Why? So you can tell your boss where I am again? So he can _follow us_?”

“No, Nell, no. I just need to make sure you’re safe.”

“Ah ha! So that guy Phil _is_ your boss!”

“...You don’t understand. You _aren’t safe_.”

“What? Don’t you trust me to know that for myself?”

“Not when Loki is involved.”

“You encouraged me to do this!”

“I was planning on going with you!”

“So _you_ could spy on me?!”

“I’d never do that to you.”

“Really? Well then, it sure **_feels_ ** like you betrayed me to a super shady government agency.”

“Look, I know I messed up, but you’ve gotta let me explain.”

“How can I know that you’ll tell me the truth?”

“I never wanted to lie to you in the first place.”

I stared at Loki’s hair, the knot like an ourobouros.

“...Meet me on the Charles Bridge in three hours. And you’d better clear the fucking air.”

_Call ended._

“Christ on a crutch, what the hell is going on, Loki?” I said, and put my face in my hands.

“I had to make sure,” he said as he finally turned to me, his face stark and raw away from the firelight.

“Of what?” I asked.

“That you would stay...you.”

I pulled a lock of hair from behind my ear. _Still brown._ I flicked my gaze back to his and held it there.

“You look tired,” I said. Dark circles had somehow appeared under his eyes between our arrival in Prague and my long nap.

“Prodigious amounts of thinking will do that,” he said, and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, I have to go kill...meet. Meet Marie in three hours,” I said.

“...You just said ‘kill’.”

“I meant ‘meet’. Also, I’m sure I said ‘meet’,” my voice trailed off in a broken whisper.

“Oh Nell...” Loki sighed and put his hands in the pockets of his pants.

“What’s in my head?” I asked him. “Because I’m not alone in there anymore.”

“Yes, I know,” he replied. “I spoke with the...other.”

_Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod_

He crossed the space between us and brought a cool hand to my brow.

“Try to stay calm. This...ailment of yours makes it worse,” he said as he gently pulled me to my feet. I felt his hands skim up my arms, still clad in the black wool of the coat I’d worn for weeks like a second skin, to my shoulders, then finally between the lapels and my collarbones. His touch was soft and welcome as his fingers slid over the thin cotton of my t-shirt, making the coat fall to the floor in a wrinkled heap. I sighed as the weight fell away. _I didn’t think Steve was that heavy._

Loki’s hands moved, feather-light, to cup my face. I closed my eyes as he brushed a thumb over my cheekbone, then pushed a still-stray lock of hair behind my ear.

“May I?” he asked as he stroked a hand over my sleep-loosened braid.

I nodded into his touch and he undid my braid, smoothing flyaways as he gently massaged my scalp. I opened my eyes to glance at my hair as it fell over my shoulders. _Red again. Me again._

“Better?”    

“Surprisingly, yes,” I replied in a soft voice. “Stop distracting me and answer my question. Please, Loki.”

He moved us away from the coat, closer to the fire.

“As much as magic can give a practicioner, it often takes more from them. Even experienced magic users, such as myself,” he paused to smirk, “Need to rest their minds. Mental strength and acuity, along with practice, can balance this exchange in their favor. There are safeguards that one can put in place. It is only during times of great stress that one’s control can...slip. Remember our little chat about the cloak absorbing our truest selves?”

I could only nod.

“That typically takes much longer than it has with you. Usually, if this period of extreme stress goes on long enough, the magic user leaves an imprint, an echo of themselves in the object.

“Until our acquaintance, I’d believed my mental safeguards impenetreble, that I’d made walls to last thousands of years.

“But it appears that I grew careless in the past decades, and now there are parts of my mind, parts I’d forgotten or buried or numbed, manifesting within you.”

“So, the voice in my head...” I said as I sat back down into the armchair with a thump.

“Is me,” he swallowed. “An older iteration. An angrier one.”

“Which means that Steve…?”

“Also me, so _please_ stop calling it that.”

I looked at the pile of black fabric on the floor. The flickering light from the fireplace never quite reached the woolen peaks and valleys of its crumpled form.

**_...Revenge…_ **

**_...revenge…_**

**_...revenge…_**

echoed from the back of my mind. My eyes grew hot.

“What...is there anything...how do I...get rid of it?” I stuttered, my voice breaking.

“I don’t know,” he said, staring pointedly at the fire.

**_...Liar…_ **

“Liar,” I said in soft accusation.

“There are...ways to extricate other conciousnesses. They are not pleasant. And you have neither the time nor the ability for half of them. The other half would do you irreparable damage,” he said.

“How much time?” I checked the clock on my phone. “I’m supposed to meet Marie in less than three hours.”

I paused, then asked, “More than a day?”

“More than a decade,” he replied.

“Jesus,” I said, and shook my head. “And just how damaging is _‘irreparable’_?”

“You would no longer _be_ as you are now. You would no longer be _yourself_. You would no longer be... _human_ ,” he growled.

“Jesus _wept_ ,” I said, digging the heels of my hands into my eyes. “So _what_ _can_ _I do_?”

“I’ll think of something,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Refresh yourself. Meet with Marie. I’ll think of something...” He pulled my hands away to kiss my forehead, lips cool and firm as a promise. “There are baths in the next room.”

He nodded to a door I hadn’t noticed earlier on the left side of the fireplace and gave me a gentle shove towards it. As I shuffled in its direction, I looked back over my shoulder at Loki.

He bent over to pick up the coat and said, “Go, Nell.” His voice was cold and imperious.

I opened the door, its hinges silent. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him put the coat on; his gaze met mine then dropped in the space of a breath. I shut the door behind me before my tears could fall.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again! I'm really, really, exponentially glad that you've read my story. Whether you like, love, hate, loathe, are apathetic about, are confused about, or don't even know why you read it, I'm glad you've made it this far. Heck, I'm glad I've made it this far. It wouldn't be possible without support from you. You are an excellent example of humanity, and I am so happy that you exist. Let's all get together around a campfire and make s'mores, yes?


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